


Set in Iron and Stone

by aeowa



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Dialogue Heavy, Friends to Lovers, GAYTEEZ, M/M, Side Seongsang, Slow Burn, Swearing, Tutor AU, Tutoring, Woosan, annoyances to lovers, diploma vs county jail, i claim this au, in celebration for the ateez comeback i give you gayteez
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:07:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 44,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25382089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aeowa/pseuds/aeowa
Summary: The high school AU that isn't really a high school AU. The tutor AU that isn't really a tutor AU. The annoyances-to-lovers fic that isn't really that kind of romance.Jung Wooyoung has to graduate high school, but his single failing grade (among other things) could prevent this from happening. All he has to do is pass English, but he needs help. The uptight tutor that he hires might just be it.Choi San is the perfect student, but as his final year of high school is coming to a close, he realizes he is terribly bored and losing interest in academia very quickly. He doesn't know exactly what he needs to help him get by, but his new tutee—a notoriously bad student named Jung Wooyoung—might just be it.※ THIS FIC UPDATES EVERY 2 WEEKS ※
Relationships: Choi San/Jung Wooyoung
Comments: 28
Kudos: 102





	1. Wooyoung

**Author's Note:**

> someone on twitter ( @atcczs ) said "diploma vs county jail" so here it is
> 
> follow me!!  
> twt @ayeowa  
> tumblr @freak-ofthe-nation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> say hello to the town's trouble maker, Jung Wooyoung.

[The [tweet](https://twitter.com/atcczs/status/1257617602131738624?s=20) that started it all.]

Wooyoung was very well acquainted with police cars this month. His number was four. Four times this month he’d been arrested. The familiar bite on his wrists was chilled by the rain pouring down. _It’s really coming down tonight,_ Wooyoung thought as the officer muttered something about ‘having too much free time’. He was shoved into the backseat of the cop car, which he knew all too well. Wooyoung laughed to himself and laid down across the seats. His clothes were soaked, so all the more reason to purposely get the seats wet too.

The officer got into the driver’s seat, but did not start driving yet. “You’re lucky it was me this time,” the officer said.

“It’s you every time,” Wooyoung said to the ceiling. The red and blue lights were still flashing on top of the car. Wooyoung liked the way the raindrops sparkled on the windows.

The police officer sighed and finally took Wooyoung to the station.

~

Wooyoung knew his town’s police station inside and out. He knew exactly where he’d be spending the rest of the night. He greeted everyone upon entering.

“Hello again, Sujin,” Wooyoung greeted the woman working the front desk.

She glared at him. “You’re father’s not gonna be happy about this,” she sighed.

“Counting on it,” Wooyoung smiled.

The officer who arrested Wooyoung pulled him along by the arm. “C’mon, let’s just get this over with.”

“Ah, we’re going right to the chief? Is this considered special treatment?” Wooyoung smirked.

“Don’t make me taze you,” the officer threatened.

Wooyoung only snickered. _Only empty threats…_

The pair walked right into the police chief’s office. He had his back turned and was just finishing up a phone call. When he finally ended the call, the officer holding Wooyoung cleared his throat.

“Chief, I found him,” the officer announced.

The police chief turned around with a raised brow and immediately let out a groan. “Goddamnit, Wooyoung!”

“Hey, Dad.”

~

Wooyoung was dripping rain water all over the carpet of his father’s office.

“Where was he this time?” Wooyoung’s father asked the other officer.

“Keying cars at the school parking lot. Got a call from a night guard,” the officer said.

The chief sighed.

Wooyoung smiled to himself.

“Will you please get your brother a towel, then? He’s dripping all over my office,” the chief said.

“Yessir. Want me to call mom, too?”

“I told you, Son, you don’t have to call me ‘Sir’ in my office. Don’t call your mother. I’ll handle this.”

The officer, who was also Wooyoung’s older brother, moved to leave the office.

“Hey, hey, aren’t you gonna uncuff me, Officer?”

He only received a glare. “You’ll get out of them eventually.”

“Eventually,” Wooyoung grinned and revealed the unlocked handcuffs from behind his back. They swung around his pointer finger twice before returning to their owner’s outstretched hand.

The office door was slammed closed. Wooyoung sat on one of the chairs in the office with a satisfied smirk. Wooyoung’s father slowly sat down in his own chair and let out an exasperated sigh.

“Wooyoung,” the chief started. “We can’t keep doing this.”

“Doing what?” Wooyoung played dumb.

The chief sighed again. Before he could speak, the office door opened, a towel was thrown at Wooyoung’s head, and the door slammed closed again. Wooyoung wrapped the towel around his shoulders.

“This is the fourth time this month, Son. You’re lucky I sent your brother to collect you. The other officers would not be so kind to you,” the chief stated

“You _always_ send him, though. And he’s not exactly treating me like his baby brother anymore,” Wooyoung rubbed his chest where a bruise was certainly forming.

“That’s besides the point. Your mother is worried sick. Your arrest count is through the roof! You’re not being a good role model for your younger brother. Graduation is coming up and you’re failing English! You need to get yourself together and start acting like an adult, Wooyoung.”

“I’m already being charged like one, though,” Wooyoung chuffed.

“Don’t push it, Wooyoung. You know what is expected of you. Why do you insist on acting this way? Do you know what people think of you? Of me? The delinquent son of the incompetent chief of police? You can’t keep doing this, Son. I won’t be able to intervene when you’re in the real world. You won’t get ‘special treatment’ in prison. We’ve talked about this.”

“Well, then, maybe you should have thought about that before y—”

“Enough! I don’t want to hear it! Call your brother in. I’m done with you tonight,” Wooyoung’s father pinched the bridge of his nose.

His brother appeared in the doorway, already aware of his task. Before they left the office, the chief had one more thing to say: “And about your failing grade, Wooyoung. I want you to do some sort of extra credit work, find a tutor, anything to get that grade up. All you have to do is pass the class. All we want is you to graduate on time. With your friends. Like your brother did. Get it done, Wooyoung. Now get out.”

Wooyoung looked from his older brother and back to his father. He set his jaw and nodded. “Yessir,” he said because his father hated it.

“Take him to the overnight cell.”

~

One of the three overnight cells at the police station was basically reserved for Wooyoung; it was like a second bedroom. It was like this, and had been like this since middle school: Wooyoung would get the cops called on him, his older brother would be the officer to arrest him and take him back to the station, and then his father would force him to stay in the overnight cell to teach him a lesson. Spoiler alert: it didn’t work. If anything, it only encouraged Wooyoung to maintain his rambunctious trouble-maker phase. He was constantly pushing the limits on what laws he could break, and what he would get caught for. It wasn’t like Wooyoung didn’t know how to be inconspicuous. He’d gotten away with plenty of things and never even got in trouble with his mother. Wooyoung’s older brother revealed one night that he and their dad started doing this to tease him, but then things escalated. Wooyoung thought about all the times he was literally thrown into the same cell by his older brother, who was furious that Wooyoung was “taking things too far”.

“Aw, you made the bed for me?” Wooyoung teased while turning around to watch his brother lock the door to the cell.

“I’ll come get you at six tomorrow morning. Don’t forget you have school. Mom wants to see you, too, so swing by home and let her know you’re alive.”

“Thank you, Officer,” Wooyoung saluted his brother and dropped onto the bed.

“Don’t call me that.”

He left without another word.

~

Wooyoung was let out at six o’clock in the morning, as promised. The sky was still dark when he left the station. The ground was still wet from last night’s rain storm. A cold breeze drifted up the street, lifting Wooyoung’s hair off his forehead. Luckily, his clothes had dried overnight. Nonetheless, he shivered and wrapped his well-worn leather jacket tighter around his torso.

A disheartened chuckle shook his shoulders. “Really outdone yourself this time, Wooyoung,” he said to himself.

School started in less than two hours, he still had to get home, change, and get there in a somewhat timely manner. Regular attendance was the least he could do for all the trouble he causes on a regular basis. Wooyoung trudged home.

His mother did not ask questions when he stumbled through the front door and announced himself. His younger brother hugged him tightly around the torso, asking excitedly where he’d been all night.

“I was with dad at work,” Wooyoung smiled and pat his brother’s head. He didn’t need to know about Wooyoung’s destructive personality. Yet.

Wooyoung didn’t waste time getting his things (and himself) together. He threw on his school uniform, grabbed his empty backpack, and jammed his feet into his shoes. He was almost out the door, car keys swinging around his finger, when his mother called him from within the house.

“Wooyoung! Aren’t you forgetting something?” She held up his tie and gave him a look. “And where’s your jacket?”

“Caught me,” Wooyoung smiled and put up his hands in surrender. “Jacket’s in the car.”

“Come here. Let me tie it for you.”

“Okay.”

She tied it quickly and then fussed with the rest of his school uniform.

“It’s fine, mom, no one really cares about the dress code, anyways,” he gave her a reassuring smile.

“I know, honey, it’s just…” she sighed. Wooyoung prepared himself to get scolded again. “You’re picking up your brother today, okay? Don’t forget,” she squeezed his shoulders and cupped his face.

“I never forget, Mom. I gotta go.”

“I know. I love you.”

“Love you too, Mom!” Woooyoung swung open the front door, spun on the landing, and closed the door in one swift motion. He jumped over the three stairs leading up to his house while removing his tie and shoved it in his backpack.

He wasted time in the parking lot of his high school, waiting until the last few minutes before the first bell. Wooyoung undid the top three buttons of his white collared shirt.

 _Smile for your mugshot, Wooyoung! It’s your final semester of high school!_ He inspected his reflection before exiting his car.

The first bell rang.

“Late again. Woops.” Wooyoung swung his uniform jacket over his shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here is my covid quarantine baby. been working on this since May. lets esketit.


	2. San

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> introducing Choi San!

The _plink!_ of the gate closing comforted San as he walked away from his home. Weak sunlight peeked through the trees lining the sidewalk. San had to be at his school an hour before the starting bell to meet his tutee. He wasn’t ecstatic about waking up so early for it, but San did love his little tutoring job. Plus, he only met with this particular student once a week, so he didn’t mind the early start. At least it wasn’t raining this morning like it was last night. 

San had managed to make a name for himself last year among his peers for his English skills. A classmate had asked to be tutored, and even offered to pay him. They became friends after two sessions. San initially rejected payment from a lot of students, but when more and more came for help, he thought, _Huh, I guess I should make something out of this._ So he did.

Now, in his last months of high school, San was the go-to man for students in need of language help.

He met with his tutee, an underclassman with big eyes and a kind smile. Things went smoothly during the tutoring session. They worked through the sunrise and finished up with enough time for both of them to get to their morning classes.

“Same time next week?” San asked before parting.

“No, not next week. I’ve actually got a club meeting next Monday!”

“Ah, okay. Well, let me know when we’re back on. See ya!”

San’s classroom was very close to the library, but he didn’t dwindle; he liked being punctual.

The morning passed quickly. San was feeling a bit spacey, but tried to stay engaged during his lessons. He was just… bored with school. Perhaps the “senioritis” was finally hitting. San had been worrying about his higher education path since the start of his final year. He just didn’t want to get bored with his studies like he was now. Maybe he just needed something new for these last few months of high school. But what could that new and refreshing thing be? San shook his head to clear his thoughts as he sat down in the canteen for lunch with his friends.

“You seem distracted today, San,” said his friend, Jung Yunho, after a while of San repeatedly stirring his half-eaten fried rice.

“I’m just tired today,” San stated with a shrug.

“Tired of having to wake up early for that kid?” San’s other friend, Song Mingi, dropped into the seat across from him.

“Don’t be like that, Mingi. I woke up early for you twice weekly last year,” San retorted. “And I don’t mind. He’s a good kid and he actually pays attention.”

“But…?” Yunho poked San.

“Okay, okay, I’ll admit I’m bored with school,” San admitted.

Mingi and Yunho gasped dramatically and then snickered.

San rolled his eyes. “What about it, though? We’ve only got a few months left. I’m doing better than you two, who have been checked out since last year.” He pushed his food towards the center of the table; his bad mood chased away his appetite.

Mingi picked at San’s food while Yunho talked about the assistant job offer at the local news broadcasting station. San insisted he was listening, though he probably looked extremely bored. Just as he started to count the cracks on the floor, San’s cellphone rang. He pulled it out of his backpack and looked at the screen with a raised brow.

“Either of you know this number?” San showed his phone screen to Mingi and Yunho.

They both shook their heads.

San answered the call.

“Hello?”

“Hey, is this, uhhhh, Choi San? You’re that English dude, right?”

“Uh, I tutor people for English, yes.”

“I want you to tutor me. Are you free at three-thirty?”

“Y-yes? I’m sorry, what is your—”

“I’ll meet you at the courtyard.”

The call ended.

San pulled the phone away from his face and looked at it as if it had come alive.

“Who was that?” Yunho asked.

“I don’t know. They want me to tutor them, I think,” San shrugged.

“Well, did you get their name?” Mingi asked before scooping the last bit of San’s lunch into his mouth.

“No, I didn’t get to ask. I think it was a guy, though. He wants to meet in the courtyard this afternoon.” He started to pack up his things.

“Wait, where are you going? History doesn’t start for 15 minutes!” Yunho called.

“Library. See you in class,” San rose from his seat and waved to his friends. He couldn’t stop thinking about his mystery caller.

He snaked through the library with an empty head, pulling books from the shelves that seemed half-interesting. He held onto one. San had apparently lost track of time because when he glanced at his watch, he had two minutes to get to class. He bolted out of the library doors, almost sent a fellow student flying down the stairs, managed a “Sorry!”, and ran down the empty corridor to his classroom. He dropped into his seat as the bell rang. San let out a sigh of relief, hugging the book to his chest.

“If you see Song Mingi before I do, tell him to pay up. I _told_ him you wouldn’t skip.” Yunho hissed behind San.

San didn’t want to know what the bet value was.

Afternoon classes proved harder to focus on. He loosened his tie. San was at least getting all the material, but he gave up forcing himself to be interested and opted to doodling in his notebook. Before he knew it, it was almost 3:30 pm. Time to meet with his mystery caller!

~

San spied an unoccupied four-top among the sea of students, mostly seniors, who were appreciating their empty class schedules. The table was protected from the sun thanks to a gnarled tree bent over the corner of the courtyard. He quickly claimed it and set up to meet his new tutee. Earlier that day, when he’d answered the call of his potential “student”, San recognized neither the number, nor the voice. It was male—a little higher-pitched than the people San hung around with—so he assumed it was one of the underclassmen. He checked his watch, saw it was the agreed meeting time, and looked around for his tutee. He realized he should have asked the kid what he looked like. An outfit description would be useless because all male students wear the same thing, save for their name tag on their uniform jacket. San sighed and pursed his lips before pulling out a snack from home. 

The fruitcake his sister made was delicious, as always. He loved it when she visited home, always baking delicious things for her favourite (only) brother. She’d used a lot of berries, so it was quite tart. San savoured every bite. He looked around while stabbing it with a fork. _Should I call him?_ San wondered. He checked his watch again and reached for his phone to make the call. However, he saw someone approach the table out of the corner of his eye. _Ah, finally,_ San thought. He meant to stand up and introduce himself, but was frozen in place.

“Are you eating a fruitcake?” The person asked with a tilt of his head. He stood right by the table.

The fork in San’s mouth fell onto the crumbled fruitcake slice. _Holy shit…_ San’s voice echoed in his head. This guy was insanely attractive, but had all the looks of a bad student. And his voice did _not_ match his looks. San had never seen him before, but he looked too mature to be an underclassman. His dark hair fell into his eyes, long enough to tuck behind his ears, showing off his piercings. His eyebrow was still raised in question. His jaw was sharp, his eyes were sharp. He one-strapped his probably empty backpack. His uniform was all wrong. The three top buttons were undone, he was wearing neither his jacket nor his tie, his shirt was untucked and wrinkled, and he was wearing checkered “skater shoes”. San didn’t know what they were actually called, but they certainly weren’t the shoes recommended by any dress codes.

The stranger chuffed, tossed his backpack on the table, and sat down on San’s left. “You’re San, right?”

San snapped back to the present and cleared his throat before nodding.

“Yeah, I called you about the tutoring,” The stranger said.

San stayed silent.

“So? Can we get to it?” The stranger sounded impatient.

“Uh, y-yeah! Well, I mean, uhm,” San stuttered as he tried to shove the rest of the fruitcake out of the way and re-organize his things. The stranger just sat there watching him flounder.

“Uhm,” San said again after he finally settled. “What is your name? I usually don’t start tutoring during the first session, just talk about what we have to do and study plans and payment and stuff…”

“Wooyoung. I’m failing English. I need to pass. I’ll pay you whatever you want.” The stranger flicked his dark hair out of his eyes.

“R-right, uhhh… What English are you in?” San thumbed through his tutoring notebook and opened a fresh page. He was slowly slipping back into a more comfortable “business mode” now that he was actually talking to this guy—Wooyoung. That’s his name.

“Third year,” Wooyoung said. His arms were crossed and propped on the table. He watched San scribble in his notebook.

“Ah, so you’re a senior, then?” San looked up in surprise, but it made sense to him. There was no way this dude was any younger than 17 years. His confidence could be nothing less than the product of years of grueling growth and change that all kids undergo in high school. 

Wooyoung nodded.

“I am too!” San stated with a smile.

“I know,” Wooyoung didn’t meet his energy.

San’s smile fell.

“Right. So,” Wooyoung continued. “I’m free most days, but not right after we get let out. Weekends are iffy for me, but we can talk about that when I decide if this is gonna work out or not. I don’t know when the next exam is, but it’s probably coming up soon. I’ll let you know. I just need to pass.”

San scribbled furiously, trying to keep up with what Wooyoung said.

“Okay,” San clicked his pen. “If you don’t mind me asking, can I see some past assignments? Just to see what we can start with?”

“I don’t have them with me, but I’m failing. That fact doesn’t change whether I get a random 70% on an assignment or not.”

“Okay… Well… It seems like all we can do right now is schedule our next meeting!” San tried to stay in positive-businessman-mode despite Wooyoung’s sour mood.

Wooyoung nodded and stood. “You have my number, and I have yours. I’ll text you. Nothing for the weekend, but probably starting next week.” He reached into his backpack and extracted his wallet. “How much do I owe you for this?”

“Uh, y—nothing for the first meeting!” San shook his hands in front of Wooyoung.

Wooyoung just stared at him, fingers already pinching money. His expression was completely unreadable. He clicked his tongue and placed two ₩10,000 notes on San’s notebook. His hand hovered, and then snatched the last bit of fruitcake. Wooyoung swung his backpack over his shoulder and winked before leaving San frozen at the table. San watched him leave the courtyard and head to the parking lot.

“He stole my fruitcake.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i will be posting updates every two weeks. expect more at the beginning of august!


	3. Wooyoung

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow what a fast 2 weeks that was! can we talk about the comeback??? thanxx gets me so hype, but we're still waiting on that MV so chop chop KQ!!! youre keeping the gays waiting!!!

Wooyoung opened his car door and threw his backpack into the passenger seat while hopping onto the driver’s seat.  _ That went well, _ he thought as the car engine roared to life. He maneuvered the car out of the parking lot and sped off to do something that was actually worthwhile: picking up his younger brother from school.

He got there in no time at all, so he parked his car and waited outside for his brother. For good measure (and to try to appear a little responsible… and less like a delinquent), Wooyoung put on his uniform blazer. Just as Wooyoung started to get bored, he felt his cell phone vibrate in his pants’ pocket. The name on the screen made him smile as he brought the phone to his face.

“What’s up, you?”

“Soooo Mr. Smooth-Talker. I heard you set up your tutoring with… what did you call him? ‘That English Dude’?” The person laughed, causing the call to crackle. “You should have seen his face when he had to introduce himself to an unknown number. He looked… confused to say the least. Certainly made an impression.”

“Haha, very funny, Mingi. What do you want? I’m busy right now,” Wooyoung leaned against his car.

“Obviously, I want to know how things went...?” Mingi’s voice trailed off in question.

“You should know how things go with him; you were his first student. You’re the one who told me to call him anyways! You put his number in my phone, too.”

“Why are you yelling at me? You should be thanking me instead. If this works out, maybe you’ll graduate with more than just passing grades, if you catch my drift…”

“Hmm, no, I don’t think I do, Mingi. Care to elaborate?”

“No, no. I prefer to let you use  _ your _ brain for these kinds of things. You need more practice.”

“Practice for what?”

“Using your brain, dumbass!”

“Well, thank god I’ve got a tutor.”

“So you’re gonna go through with it?” Mingi asked excitedly.

“Eh, probably. I told him we could start on Monday.”

“Ha, good luck. Our test is next Friday.”

“F-friday??? That’s in a week!” Wooyoung almost choked, earning him a few strange looks from the parking-lot moms who’ve come to retrieve their children from school. He gave them a totally-not-awkward smile and a wave. “Well, he tutored  _ you, _ so he’s gotta be good.”

“Right. Well, Your Courtship, I’ve gotta go. I’ll be at the basketball court ‘til dinner if you wanna meet up.”

“Maybe. I’ll talk to you later.”

Wooyoung ended the call just as the school doors opened. Young children came flooding out, running to their parents and guardians and receiving big hugs and smiles. Wooyoung finally spotted his younger brother trotting over to him.

Despite Wooyoung’s law-breaking tendencies, he really did want to be a better example for his younger brother. Not that their oldest brother wasn’t the best example in the house, but he was as busy working at the police station as their father. Sometimes it was just Wooyoung or their mother at home, but even then Wooyoung would find himself getting in trouble one way or another. So then he’d be sent off to the station or getting his ass handed to him by his mother.  _ Couldn’t you have chosen a less destructive hobby, Wooyoung? Like photography or violin? _ He sighed.

“Hey, you,” Wooyoung greeted as he ruffled his brother’s hair.

“Is Mom busy today?”

“Everyone but me! How great am I?” Wooyoung kneeled down to his brother’s height.

His brother pursed his lips and sighed. “Mom always takes me for ice cream on Fridays. Can… we go, too?” There was apprehension in his eyes that made Wooyoung a little sad.

“Of course we can! As your chauffeur, I am pleased to take you anywhere, sir.” Wooyoung bowed his head with a smile. When he looked back up, his brother was smiling too.

“Okay! I want to go to the one on the corner. They have the best double chocolate chip ice cream in the whole world!”

“I’m sure they do.” Wooyoung felt happy because of his brother’s innocent joy. He wished he could enjoy the little things in life like ice cream and being excited about the weekends.

They loaded into the car and pulled away from the school. Wooyoung tried to engage his brother as they drove towards the ice cream shop, which was luckily on the way home. By the time they made it to the corner shop, his brother was babbling about some drama between two girls that went down during lunch. Wooyoung parked in the street and ushered his brother inside. They greeted the shop owner and waited to select their ice cream.

“Any recommendations?” Wooyoung asked his brother.

“Well, I’m gonna get the double chocolate chip. It’s really sweet! But I don’t know if you like sweet things anymore… they have other flavours too, you know. Like… coffee! Or… peanut butter chocolate! Wooyoung, are you one of those boring adults that likes vanilla ice cream?”

Wooyoung knelt down and pouted. “Do I look boring to you?”

“No, but Mommy says you’re bored a lot and that you need something to do. And Dad says that you see him at work too much. Is high school really boring? Don’t you have any friends to play with?”

Wooyoung was shocked at his brother’s bluntness.

_ He learned it from the best… _ Mocked a voice in Wooyoung’s head.

_ It runs in the family, _ he reminded himself.

“I do! You think your brother is really bored? I have tons of friends! C’mon, let’s get our ice cream,” Wooyoung pat his brother’s head and looked around the shop, hoping no one had heard him getting roasted by a child. He peered outside and saw someone familiar. The person was leaning against a parking meter, arms crossed, staring him down. He was dressed in dark colours. His posture said ‘Stay away! Unless you wanna get jumped in broad daylight!’ Although the glass wall of the ice cream shop blurred his visage, Wooyoung knew exactly who it was.

“Park Seonghwa,” Wooyoung grumbled.

The person outside, Park Seonghwa, nodded upwards at Wooyoung. Wooyoung nodded back.

“Speaking of friends, I’m gonna go talk to one right now, okay? He’s right outside, see him? Will you order my ice cream for me? Here is the money to pay.” Wooyoung handed his brother a ₩10,000 note.

“Okay, Wooyoung! Mommy lets me order by myself, too! What do you want?”

Wooyoung thought for a moment to stall for a little longer. “I’ll have what you’re having.”

His brother smiled. “Can I get sprinkles, too?”

Wooyoung smiled. “Of course you can.”

He sent his brother to the register to order. Wooyoung watched him standing on his tip-toes as he talked to the confectioner. He smiled again. As he stepped outside, however, he wiped his face of any emotion whatsoever. He didn’t want to give Park Seonghwa any ideas.

“What are you doing here?” Wooyoung stood in front of Seonghwa with his hands in his blazer’s pockets.

Park Seonghwa was dressed like a very fashionable biker. He wore a leather jacket with too many useless buckles over a black turtleneck. His jeans were ripped and his boots were so scuffed up you’d think he shuffled through granite all day. His hair was long, dark, and styled towards one side to show off a harsh undercut and silver hoop earrings. He was fiddling with one of the many rings decorating his fingers.

“Aye, c’mon, Wooyoung. Is that anyway to address a brother?” Seonghwa chuckled.

“You’re not my brother, and I already gave you my answer. It’s no, in case you forgot.”

“And I already told you that I’m not giving up on you so easily.”

“I’m not joining your stupid gang. I never will. It’s not my scene. I don’t care if you or your goonies tail me for the rest of my life. Get it in your head, Seonghwa. I. Won't. Join.”

Seonghwa covered a laugh with his fist. “Not your scene? Not your scene?? Jung Wooyoung, you’ve done just about everything there is to do. How many times have you been arrested this month? Twice?”

“...Four,” Wooyoung mumbled with a bowed head.

“Four times!? That’s impressive! Is that a record?”

“N-No—Nevermind!” Wooyoung shook his head. “It’s not your business!”

“It’s your business, which makes it my business,” Seonghwa stepped closer. “Now, must I remind  _ you _ of your promise?”

Wooyoung looked away. “We agreed it would be  _ after _ I graduated.” He felt like a crushed cigarette under Seonghwa’s heavy black boot.

“ _ Which _ is right around the corner, my friend. So here I am, asking you, just to make things easier. You’ve been alone for a while, Wooyoung. Don’t you think it’s time to extend your family beyond that pretty boy with the perfect face?” Seonghwa smiled and poked Wooyoung’s chest with every statement. Each touch felt like a beating from a baton. The words sunk in deeper than any switchblade.

Yeosang’s face popped up in Wooyoung’s mind.  _ Oh hell no! He’s not going for my Yeosang! _

“My answer will always be no,” Wooyoung pushed Seonghwa away. “Get lost. And stay away from my friends.”

Seonghwa’s lip curled, but he said nothing more.

Wooyoung went back inside the ice cream shop to find his brother sitting alone at a small table with two large cups of dark chocolate ice cream.

“What is your friend’s name, Wooyoung? He wears the same clothes as you do.”

“Ah, he’s not really my friend…” Wooyoung sighed and stabbed his ice cream with the neon pink plastic spoon in his cup.

“But you said you have lots of friends.”

“He wanted me to visit his other friends today. But I told him I’m busy hanging out with someone a lot cooler.”

“Who?” His brother asked with a spoonful of ice cream in his mouth.

“You, silly! Now, hurry up and finish your ice cream. You know Mom wants you to get your work done before dinner.”

“But I don’t have any! It’s Friiiidayyyy, Wooyoung.”

“Your pouts won’t work on me. Eat.”

~

It rained all weekend, effectively putting off most of Wooyoung’s plans until a later date. It didn’t stop him from getting up to no good, though. Just because that convenience store owner didn’t call the police after Wooyoung and his friend stole two bottles of soju and got chased down the street doesn’t mean it didn’t happen. Just because no one caught Wooyoung spray-painting obscene images and curse words on the back wall of the gymnasium doesn’t mean it won’t still be there on Monday. And just because Wooyoung’s mother didn’t watch him sneak into the house hours past curfew, sopping wet from rain, doesn’t mean she didn’t notice the muddy water stains in the entry room the next morning. She never did say anything, though. There were two instances where she looked at Wooyoung with concern spilling from her eyes, but she never said anything, never asked questions, never reprimanded him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UUHHHHHH WOOYOUNG CUT HIS HAIR A LILLLL BIT. NO . WE'VE BEEN ROBBED OF PONTYTAIL WOOYOUNG WHAT THE FUCKKKKKKK


	4. Wooyoung

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im just gonna say it now rather than later, im not trying to make seonghwa a bad guy he's just too sexy for my brain to make him nice right now

Just like every other weekend, Monday came too fast. So, too, would come another week of Wooyoung not paying attention to his teachers droning on and on about some piece of information that would be of no use to Wooyoung in the future. But it was Monday, and that meant that Wooyoung had four days until that English test that Mingi reminded him about. Wooyoung had four days, and no tutor. So, before leaving home for school, Wooyoung gave that bookworm, Choi San, a call in hopes to set up some study sessions.

The dial tone buzzed in Wooyoung’s ear for too long. He was sure a person like Choi San would be pretty reasonable about answering their cell phone. Wooyoung puffed out lips in frustration. He muttered a “fuck it” and cancelled the call. He announced to his house (he had no idea who was home, or if he was just talking to the walls) that he was leaving for school. He locked the door behind him and switched his keys while approaching his car. Before he could start his car, though, his phone started buzzing in his pocket.  _ Probably Yeosang thinking we’re gonna be late again. Nerd, _ Wooyoung thought. He checked his phone and was surprised to see that it was not, in fact, Kang Yeosang calling, but instead Choi San calling him back. Wooyoung stared at his vibrating phone for several seconds before answering the call. He started his car and pulled into the street.

“Hello?” Wooyoung maneuvered the steering wheel with one hand, the other trying to bluetooth connect his phone to the car so he wouldn’t have to keep holding the phone to his face.

“H-hello? Jung Wooyoung, right? Did you just call me?” San’s voice crackled. Then his voice came from the car speakers.

“Yeah, I did. Are you free today?” Wooyoung freely checked his mirrors and sped down the street.

“Me?”

“Who else?”

“Y—for tutoring?”

“Yes? I have a test on Friday. Can you teach me today?” Wooyoung was getting frustrated with this dude. Wasn’t he supposed to be the smart one? Why was this so hard to understand? As Wooyoung dealt with his frustrations, he pulled up to the house of his friend, Kang Yeosang, who he was driving to school. Wooyoung honked his horn twice. Yeosang flew out of the front door with a waffle in his mouth. His hair was bleach blonde. Wooyoung’s jaw dropped.

“I, uhm, I think so.” San stuttered. “Can I check my schedule and get back to you?”

Yeosang ripped open the car and mumbled his apologies as he shoved himself into the passenger seat.

“Yeah, yeah, just text me. Gotta go. You’ll see me at school.” Wooyoung ended the call using a button on the steering wheel.

“Who’s texting you?” Yeosang.

“Not your business. What the fuck is this?” Wooyoung pulled at Yeosang’s long blonde hair.

“Not your business,” Yeosang mocked. “Can we just go? We’re gonna be late,” Yeosang swatted away Wooyoung’s hand. He pulled down the sun visor and slid open the mirror compartment, pulled a black tie from his blazer pocket, and threw it around his neck. “Wooyoung, please don’t ask right now. Let’s go.”

Wooyoung grumbled something about keeping secrets from your best friend.

They weren’t late for school.

Yeosang parted from Wooyoung to go to his homeroom, because of course they weren’t in the same class. Though they were best friends, Wooyoung and Yeosang had not been in the same class since their first year. But that didn’t stop Wooyoung’s determination to become the best friend of Kang Yeosang, the student with perfect grades and a perfect face. Yeosang has been in the top class for the past two years now. Wooyoung had lunch with Yeosang daily, and visited him in his classroom nearly every day to either say hi or pester him. And this was how Wooyoung met Choi San.

To tell it truthfully, they didn’t actually meet until a few days ago. Choi San is in the same class as Yeosang. He caught Wooyoung’s eye right away, but never even gave Wooyoung the time of day, despite being in each other’s presence for so many months (not that Wooyoung has even tried to get his attention yet). Wooyoung wasn’t exactly attracted, but rather curious. San was an interesting person, from what Yeosang has told him. So, of course, Wooyoung—being a naturally inquisitive person—wanted to get to know him. He wonders now if Choi San even recognizes him as the visiting nuisance from one of the lower classes, and if so, if he’ll ever mention it. Wooyoung wonders if they could ever be friends. He hopes so.

He dropped into his desk and turned around in his chair. He propped his elbows on the desk behind his with his head in his hands. His friend, Song Mingi, was writing something in a notebook.

“Why did Yeosang bleach his hair?” Wooyoung asked.

“Kang Yeosang? Bleached his hair??” Mingi gasped loudly. Clearly he was as surprised as Wooyoung.

“Yes!” Wooyoung hissed and shushed his friend.

“What?” Mingi hissed.

“I’m asking you!”

“Well,  _ I _ don’t know. He didn’t even come play basketball last Friday,” Mingi folded his arms. “I haven’t seen him in three days.”

“Okay, okay, we’ll have to corner him later and make him tell us.”

“We should get him after school.”

“Can’t. I… have tutoring today.”

“With… Choi San?” Mingi tilted his head and smiled.

“Maybe,” Wooyoung sat upright.

“When?”

Wooyoung hummed, remembering that he never confirmed a time with San. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, hoping for a text. There was one from San.

San:  _ I can meet again at 3:30 PM if that works. Other than that, I can do this evening after 6 PM. Let me know! :) _

Wooyoung showed Mingi his phone screen with a smug smile.

“I’ve laid the foundations. My work here is done,” Mingi smiled with him.

“You didn’t do shit, Song Mingi.” Wooyoung turned around in his chair.

Wooyoung:  _ i have time after classes today _

San:  _ I thought you couldn’t meet after school? _

Wooyoung:  _ well i can today. are we doing this, or not? _

San:  _ Of course. Where do you want to meet? _

Wooyoung:  _ same place _

San:  _ See you then! _

Wooyoung fought the smile that threatened to crack his face. He stuffed his phone away and tried to focus on his lessons, but could only think of all the opportunities ahead of him for his tutoring session. He already had San’s number, so he wouldn’t have to waste any precious time getting it out of him. So what magic, then, would he work on Choi San?

~

Not that Wooyoung ever paid attention in his classes anyways, but he was exceptionally bored with whatever was going on at the front of the classroom. He saw some 3-D shapes and English letters on the board, but nothing that Wooyoung cared to make sense of. He wouldn’t admit it to himself, but he was feeling anxious about his tutoring session with Choi San. It was a nervous excitement that swirled around his gut and made his chest tighten at random moments.

_ It’s just nerves, _ he tried to tell himself. But when he couldn’t come up with anything witty or funny to say in advance when meeting San, Wooyoung realized he wasn’t just pre-anxious for the study session. He was nervous to hold a real conversation with San. Wooyoung didn’t actually know what kind of person he was, just that he was smart, organized, and sociable. Somewhat opposite to Wooyoung. He hoped they wouldn’t butt heads, but Wooyoung’s disposition towards scorn and bluntness proved to be an obstacle for making friends. He was actually quite lucky to have someone like Yeosang as a friend, who could take just about anything Wooyoung dished out. He was also lucky that Yeosang went with any scheme Wooyoung could come up with. They always had fun together, especially when they were up to no good.

The time came for Wooyoung to seek out his tutor in the courtyard again, so he bid Mingi farewell, (threatened him to not spy on the study session, for good measure), and exited the school building through the canteen. The tables were more empty than the last time he met San, but after a quick scan of the area, Wooyoung did not see his tutor. With a shrug, Wooyoung claimed the closest four-top and set his bag on the table. He folded his arms atop it and waited, watching. Every movement from the nearby students caught his eye. He wondered if San would look just as breathtaking as he had the first time Wooyoung got a proper look at him.

He did.

Even when the wind blew in his face and parted his hair in the middle, tie flapping around wildly, he still made Wooyoung stop what he was doing and just stare. Luckily, he snapped out of it just as they made eye contact; Wooyoung waved him over to the table.

“Hi, Wooyoung. Sorry that I’m late. My teacher held me for a few minutes extra to clean up the classroom. Were you waiting long?” San sat on Wooyoung’s left, pulling at his tie. Wooyoung had ditched his own before lunch.

“You’re not late,” Wooyoung checked his watch. “You’re right on time, actually.”

“If I’m not fifteen minutes early, then I’m late.” San rummaged through his backpack and pulled out a notebook, an English textbook and workbook, and an annoyingly orange pencil case.

“Y’signaling traffic with that thing?” Wooyoung quirked a brow. He managed an amused huff of breath.

“W-what?” San paused. “What thing?”

“That,” Wooyoung pointed to the bright orange zipper bag. “It’s brighter than a traffic light. My eyes hurt just looking at it.”

San furrowed his brow in confusion. He didn’t seem to understand that Wooyoung was messing with him. “I-I can put it away… if it’s bothering you…”

“What? No, I’m—I’m just fucking with you, bro. It’s—I don’t actually care…”

“Oh. W-well, I guess we can start then. Are you ready? I’ve made you a short study plan for these last few days leading up to your test on Friday. Is the test in the morning? If not, we can block out time during lunch before your test and do a quick review. Have you brought your things like I asked? I’d like to see what we’re working with before I divide your study materials.”

Wooyoung was too busy trying to figure out how the fuck San was so oblivious to sarcasm and generally playful teasing. But then again, San didn’t really know Wooyoung, and Wooyoung didn’t really know San. He supposed he would have to be a lot more tame, at least for the first few times they met. Wooyoung wasn’t one to open up after a little bit and overshare his whole life story, though. There wasn’t a person at school (except Kang Yeosang) who really knew what he did in his free time. Not even Song Mingi or Seo Changbin, classmates who Wooyoung considered his good friends, knew that his father was the chief of police.

“Huh?” Wooyoung squinted at San.

“Take out your English book, please.”

~

Wooyoung forgot something very important: He hated studying, but he liked the way San spoke English for him when he was stuck, which melted away his frustrations. He also didn’t really care for learning English, but again, Wooyoung liked the way San spoke, so he managed to enjoy himself. San kept him on task, so Wooyoung didn’t have much time to actually talk to him. When Wooyoung asked anything about San’s personal life (even simple things like his interests), San would tell him to ask in English, which shut him down right away.

They were wrapping up the review of example test vocabulary when San proposed a surprising plan: “Since I know you’ll be in my classroom to fetch Kang Yeosang for lunch, can I join you? We could do a small review while we eat. I find that most of the people I’ve tutored benefit from reviewing with a partner while eating.”

Wooyoung didn’t know enough about the science of studying to argue, but it also didn’t stop him from agreeing. “Yeah… I’ll just, uh, grab you two when I get there.” He was really impressed with how upfront San was. People didn’t usually talk to Wooyoung like this. It was usually Wooyoung being blunt and leaving people speechless.

“Great. Well, then, that’s all for today,” San slammed his book shut. “I hope tomorrow afternoon works for you, too. As you said, you need to pass this English class. This is the first step, Wooyoung. It’s good that you’re working hard like this.” He stood up from the table and reassuringly pat Wooyoung’s shoulder. “Oh, and… would you send me your class schedule? I ask all of my students, just so I can see if our schedules line up, and where I can add in study times. You… already have my number, so I’d like to have it before tomorrow. So… I’ll be going now.” San zipped his backpack and swung it over his shoulder. He wove through the now-full tables spread out in the courtyard.

“See ya, Fruitcake.” Wooyoung laid his bag on the table and folded his arms atop it. He inhaled deeply and was unaware of the smile tugging at his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope yall have caught on that the chapter titles are just the POV. it'll switch off btw woosan, so some chapters may be shorter or longer depending on whats going down  
> that's it for this chunk of the story, tune in after two weeks for the next update!


	5. San

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yee-haw im posting a 4-chapter chunk today! i intended to post updates this morning but got distracted and just got done with a 5 hour drive :(

Wooyoung was a diligent student. Probably because he was cramming and _needed_ to pass this class, and San certainly didn’t encourage it, but he had a good memory and he mostly paid attention. It took longer than usual for San to decipher what kind of student Wooyoung was. San could normally find out what made his students tick after their first or second study session. It was on their final study session before Wooyoung’s exam that San started to figure him out. And he almost ruined everything completely because of his perfect student complex. It was Friday. Exam Day. The pair was doing another lunch-cram-sesh. Wooyoung’s English class was the second right after lunch. He had totally given up on whatever San was trying to drill into his brain.

“How many times do I have to explain this, Wooyoung? You _must_ put a comma here. All compound sentences require it to be _here,_ not here.” San sat on Wooyoung’s left and stabbed the review notebook with his pen.

San always sat across from his tutees, but Wooyoung demanded they sit next to each other so San could write easier and not constantly spin his textbook, and Wooyoung wouldn’t have to read upside down. San nearly elbowed Wooyoung in the chest as he scribbled out the incorrect grammar. He didn't understand why they had to be so close, but if it helped Wooyoung learn, he would do it.

“Stop, San, this isn’t working. What if it’s not even on the test?” Wooyoung nearly snatched the pen out of San’s grip, but San had quick reflexes. He held it out of reach and huffed.

“Can you afford to make that bet, Wooyoung?” San looked over his right shoulder at Wooyoung, who was still reaching for the pen. He would be on top of San soon if he didn’t stop now.

Wooyoung stopped moving and looked into San’s eyes. “Yes.” He snatched San’s pen.

“Wrong answer! Why did you even ask me to be your tutor if you would fight me on what I know?” San had never had a student like this before. And just when he thought he was starting to _get_ him… “What will you do if you fail this test, hmm? You think I will continue to teach someone who can't pass a basic English test? You’ll fail. Then what?”

“Listen, San,” Wooyoung relaxed in his seat and fiddled with the pen. San’s pen. “I don’t care that you have a reputation to uphold. I don’t care that you’ve made model students out of dirt-dumb kids. I’m paying you ‘cause I know you’re smart, and even with the four days of studying you’ve managed to make me do, I know I’ll pass. So here’s what’s gonna happen. By the time I give this back to you, you’re gonna agree to everything I say.

“We’re gonna finish what we’re doing here, and then I’m gonna go get the fifty-thousand won that Koo Wonjae owes me, even if I have to _beat_ it out of him. Then, I’m gonna pass this English test, and you are gonna keep on tutoring me. I won’t argue _as much_ with you, but only if you stop acting like you invented the English language. And we’re gonna pretend that you don’t think you’ve got the biggest brain in the building. And I’ll get you your money for the week before school ends today. Understood?” Wooyoung held out the pen as if he was offering his hand to shake.

San swallowed and looked from Wooyoung’s dead-eye stare to the pen in his hand. _When did he get so close?_ San could see a relaxed confidence in Wooyoung’s eyes, as if he had lots of experience threatening people and getting exactly what he wanted. San could only nod as he slowly took his pen back.

“Excellent. We’re done here, then.” Wooyoung packed up his things. San watched him pull three silver rings from his pocket and slide them onto the first three fingers of his right hand. He didn’t want to know how many cheeks and foreheads those things have crashed into. Poor Wonjae, whoever he was.

~

Wooyoung passed his test. San knew because after school on the following Monday, Wooyoung texted him a picture of his test results. There was a big red “58/70” at the top corner of the packet. And then a second picture came in: Wooyoung flipping him off. And finally a message.

Wooyoung: _cant meet today fruitcake. got places to be. i'll see you tomorrow. teacher wants us to write a short essay_

San: _Good to see the hard work paying off! Would you be able to meet tomorrow evening? I also have plans right after school._

Wooyoung: _works for me. drop a time and place_

San didn’t respond yet. “Fruitcake? Is that supposed to be a nickname?” He muttered to his phone. San didn’t _do_ nicknames. Yeosang had come up to him to ask about homework collection, making San quickly lock his phone and hold it protectively against his chest.

“Did everyone hand it in?” San asked Yeosang, who was holding out a stack of identically destroyed workbooks. “I like your hair, by the way. Bleach-blonde looks good on you.” He took the stack from Yeosang and set it on the corner of the teacher’s desk.

“Hey, San, uhm,” Yeosang started. “Don’t mind Wooyoung, by the way. I know you’re tutoring him, and I know he kind of went off on you on Friday. He… has a short fuse. He’s just… under a lot of stress. From his parents and other things. I know he appreciates you tutoring him. It’s a good change for him. It’s what he needs.”

San nodded, remembering his own troubling thoughts from weeks ago that he felt bored with school and needed a change in his life. Maybe this simple job was it? Maybe he just needed something, or someone, refreshing in his life like Jung Wooyoung. He’s certainly not the kind of person San ever hung out with. Even though Wooyoung was kinda scary and hard to keep track of, San was starting to like him. He was chatty during their sessions and a pretty good student when he was focused. San mulled these thoughts over as he fell into step with Yeosang. They exited the school and headed towards the lot. San wasn’t really paying attention; his house was in the other direction.

“You coming with us, San?” Yeosang asked. He was looking at San with one raised eyebrow. Wooyoung had appeared next to him and was swinging car keys around his index finger.

“Huh?” San asked at the same time Wooyoung said, “He’s not.”

“What? Why not?” Yeosang asked.

“We’re picking up my brother, not going out to eat. C’mon. I’ll text you later, San,” Wooyoung nodded upwards at San as he dragged Yeosang towards a small, black car.

Jung Wooyoung was about as refreshing as a splash of cold water to the face.

~

San’s walk home was delightful. The sun was still shining, the Earth had finally dried off from the weekend’s rainstorms, and San had something to look forward to this evening: tutoring with his most temperamental student ever. He wondered what mood Wooyoung would be in, and if they would get in any productive studying now that he wasn’t cramming for anything. Maybe San would be pleasantly surprised. He was still getting used to Wooyoung’s sarcasm and dead-pan statements. He thought over all the things they’d worked on the past week, and found himself feeling proud that Wooyoung had done so well on his exam despite having a currently failing grade. It made San think… _Wooyoung must have a reason for having a bad grade in this one class. He’s actually pretty smart, and he’s not bad at English. Yet, he’s failing…_ San didn’t want to pry into Wooyoung’s life, but he hoped there wasn’t something bad happening behind the scenes when Wooyoung wasn’t in school.

Before he knew it, San was unlocking the gate to his house and entering his home. It was large, a result of having parents with well-paying jobs; his father being a “higher up” in academia and his mother being the principal of the local elementary school. While the house was nice and occupied by a loving family, it was often vacant. San’s sister no longer lived with them. San would go to school, his parents would go to work. Most days of the week, San would return to an empty house. He never paraded the “lonely rich kid” life he was living. He tried to not complain because he knew that having a giant house to himself was the least troubling thing that could ever happen to him. But that didn’t stop him from entering the quiet house, removing his shoes, and coming into the dark kitchen with a sigh. He couldn’t help the forward slouch in his shoulders when no one greeted him with a hug, or even a pat on the arm. San opened the refrigerator, stared into the LED-lit shelves for several moments before closing it empty-handed. Plenty of food, but nothing to eat. Nothing on the stove, nothing in the rice-cooker. He sighed again, grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl, and went to his bedroom.

San shouldered open his door, tossed his backpack at the foot of his bed, and threw open the long white curtains that covered ceiling-to-floor windows. He looked at the luscious vegetation that made up the landscaping of the backyard. He was very fortunate to have such a space. It was one of his favourite places to think, to study, to read, to eat. But right now, with all the trees blocking the golden sunlight, it was a gloomy place. San sighed for the third time that afternoon. He was disappointed that his good mood had dissipated so quickly. He bit into the apple, finally realizing how hungry he was. He’d have to eat before tutoring Wooyoung that evening. Which reminded him…

He fished out his cellphone and checked if Wooyoung had texted as promised. Nothing yet. San was surprised to find himself disappointed. Why did he feel that way? There was a possibility that San wouldn’t have to deal with Wooyoung’s nonsense any more today. Wouldn’t that call for feeling relief? _You just want someone to hang out with,_ said the little demon on his shoulder. San clicked his tongue and fell backwards onto his bed, half-eaten apple abandoned on the desk in the corner of his room.

~

San’s ear was almost blasted out by his cellphone’s ringtone. He shot up in bed, completely unaware that he’d fallen asleep. _Great, now my sleeping schedule’s all messed up._ San’s room was much darker. Several hours must have passed. He found his phone and pressed it to his ear.

“Hello?” San rubbed his eyes.

“Hey, are we still on for tonight?” Wooyoung’s voice crackled on the line.

San internally cursed. He’d allowed himself to fall asleep, in his uniform no less, therefore neglecting his responsibility to his tutee. And even though the two had never set a time and place, it was understood that they would meet tonight and get some work done.

“Uhhhhh…. Yeah… Yes. We are. We can.” San scrambled to check the time. It was only six o’clock. But San didn’t have a car, and he felt bad asking Wooyoung to come all the way over. “Where would work for you? We could go back to school, the library is still open. Or we could sit on those tables where we first met up. We could even go to a coffee shop, or whatever you want to do. You’re the one learning. I’m flexible.”  
“Ugh, no way am I going back to that _institution._ Can you just come over to mine? I’ll kick everyone out of the kitchen. I have a desk in my room, too, if we have to go somewhere less chaotic. I’ll send you my address. Come over now if you’re ready.”

And then the call ended. No goodbye, no okay from San. He sighed as he loosened his uniform tie and threw it across the room. At least he could wear something more comfortable now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let's discuss woosan on idol radio bc they out-gayed themselves yet again


	6. Wooyoung

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> baby chapter for wooyoungie!!!!!!!

Wooyoung ended the call with his tutor and immediately called Kang Yeosang. He’d know how to “deal” with San, right? He paced his small bedroom while the dial tone buzzed in his ear. He lost his patience and instead called the only other person who could provide any sort of help. Song Mingi.

He picked up right away.

“Mingi! What do I do when a person I like is coming over to my house?” Wooyoung’s tongue tripped over his own words. He didn’t know when San would arrive. Hopefully soon. But he wanted to be prepared. For… anything. Everything. 

“W-hold on, woah, woah, slow down. What do you want? Who’s at your house?” Mingi was almost yelling, as per usual.

“No one  _ yet, _ but someone will be here soon. Now, help.”

“But who? What do you mean ‘like’?”

“Not important.”

“Obviously it is if you're calling me for what feels like flirting advice! Spill.”

“It’s no one! Just help me out here! And I’m not trying to flirt with anyone.”

“... Fine. Just… be yourself! Be nice!”

_ Always the optimistic fool. _ “Which one? I can’t do both.”

“Okay, well, if it’s who I think it is, just keep the sarcasm in check and you won’t freak him out.”

“I didn’t say anything about a ‘he’.”

“You didn’t have to, Wooyoung. Good luck!”

The call ended.

And Wooyoung was left alone in his bare bedroom. He didn’t even have anything to tidy-up because he had almost nothing in his room. There was a bed, a desk with a comfy chair, and a small bookshelf where he put some nicknacks. Every piece of furniture was in a corner. They didn’t  _ have _ to study in Wooyoung’s bedroom (in fact it would probably be best to study literally anywhere else), but he could dream.

The newly-stressed-tutee dashed out of his room and demanded everyone in the kitchen clear out, but not before helping clean up. Wooyoung’s mother was confused but helped anyway. His younger brother questioned him; Wooyoung only told him to hurry up. After about 10 minutes of cleaning the already clean kitchen, Wooyoung deemed it worthy, and then shooed everyone out. There were three loud knocks heard from the front door.

“Wooyoung, who is that?” His mother asked.

“My tutor,” He said as he pushed her out of the kitchen.

“What?! Your what?? You got a tutor? Like your father asked? You actually listened to your father?”

“We’ll talk about it later, Mom, okay? Right now, I need you to leave so we can work in here. I’ve gotta let him in now. Just let me do my thing.”

“I know, I know. I’m… I’m proud of you, my son. Finally, so responsible,” she pet his hair before turning on her heel and leaving the kitchen.

Wooyoung aligned his shirt on his shoulders, ruffled his hair, and put on his best annoyed face.

“Glad you didn’t get lost,” he said after opening the front door to a slightly uncomfortable Choi San wearing the most attractively boring “groutfit” (joggers and hoodie with some white swirly patterns) ever. This was gonna be a long night.


	7. San

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yall want cliche tropes? cause yall getting cliche tropes

“Glad you didn’t get lost,” Jung Wooyoung said after opening his front door. He was dressed like a rich stoner. Full bling, baggy clothes. It made San mad that Wooyoung still looked good in that outfit. He let San in and waited as he toed his sneakers off and laid them perfectly in the corner of the entryway.

“You apparently don’t live too far from me. Your house looks nice. Are your parents home? I’d like to say hello.” San waited for Wooyoung to guide him through the house and to their study destination.

Wooyoung instead gave him yet another once-over and stayed silent. He turned and walked away. San took that as a “follow me”. They entered the kitchen. San took it in quickly because it was small. It wasn’t cramped at all, just a lot smaller than his own kitchen. It was actually quite cozy. It smelled like someone had just finished cooking pork, and maybe bread? Or was that perhaps some sort of European meat pie? San couldn’t tell. He’d have to ask. The rice cooker was steaming next to the sink and there were flowers in tiny vases all around. San noticed a home-baked loaf of bread on a cutting board. That solves one mystery. Someone in this house was a very good cook. Another thing San would have to ask about. One look at Wooyoung’s bored face, though, and San stored away those questions for a later date. He hoped Wooyoung wasn’t in a bad mood this evening.

“We’ll be working here, then?” San asked.

Wooyoung nodded towards a wooden table. “Right here.” There was a small stack of presumably Wooyoung’s schoolwork.

San nodded back. He couldn’t pinpoint Wooyoung’s mood. Perhaps there would be another addition to the growing list after tonight.

Wooyoung adjusted his too big t-shirt and sat at the table. “You can just sit across from me tonight since I’m not cramming for a test anymore.”

San followed the suggestion and set his backpack on the floor.

Wooyoung did his work for a while after San walked him through it. He had to write a short essay in one of his workbooks. Occasionally, he would ask San to spell an English word. San would tell him to sound it out instead. He read his work out loud frequently to ensure it made sense. 

San was working on his advanced chemistry homework while Wooyoung scribbled away. It was easy enough that he could help Wooyoung conjugate verbs, but hard enough that he didn’t feel like he was doing busy work. Most of his classes felt like that nowadays. He wondered if Wooyoung felt like that, as well. Plenty of their classmates were completely checked-out, but if they weren’t careful, they could get their college scholarships revoked. Did Wooyoung have any scholarships? Where was he going to college? Would Jung Wooyoung even go to college? There were petty rumors in their school that Jung Wooyoung was part of a gang, and that as soon as he graduated he would join them full-time. Others said he would work for his father, whatever he did as a living. San really tried to ignore such things. From what he’s observed, Wooyoung is a good person with a certain amount of drive that gets him what he wants in life. But… while San didn’t believe rumours, he didn’t know enough about Wooyoung to disprove them.

“Hey,” Wooyoung snapped his fingers right under San’s nose.

San blinked back into focus.

“Aren’t you supposed to be helping me with this? Why are you doing your own thing?” San’s annoyed student tapped his pen on his lines of written English.

“Sorry… I was thinking about stuff. Do you need my help right now? Another verb?” San sat upright in his chair, focused, ready to learn or help others learn, just like his mother taught him.

“Well, no, but…” Wooyoung ran his fingers through his dark hair. “Nevermind. I need to focus.” He buried his nose in the workbook.

San let an amused huff of breath leave his nose as a smirk pulled up a corner of his mouth.

Everything was going well until a kid with Wooyoung’s same sharp eyes came stomping into the kitchen. Probably Wooyoung’s little brother. He perched on the chair next to San and stared at him. Wooyoung glared at his brother. San looked questioningly between the two brothers.

“Leave,” Wooyoung said.

“Are you a teacher?” The little brother asked. San didn’t know his name, or how old he was. Perhaps elementary level.

“No,” San answered.

“But you’re teaching him English, right?” He pointed at Wooyoung.

“That’s right.” San nodded.

“So you  _ are _ a teacher!”

“Nope! I go to school with your brother. I’m his tutor. Do you know what that is?”

“Does it mean you have to help him with his homework because it’s boring?”

San looked to Wooyoung who was fuming across the table, and then back to his brother. “Yes.”

“So you’re not a teacher, but you teach him stuff, and you’re actually his friend who goes to the same school, right?”

San never said the word ‘friend’. Wooyoung’s brother probably just assumed they were friends because they were in the same grade at the same school. “That’s right,” San said again.

“I said leave,” Wooyoung grumbled. His normally piercing stare that made San uneasy had no effect on his brother.

“No!”

“Then we’ll leave. C’mon, San. Gotta go somewhere less  _ annoying. _ ” Wooyoung pushed his chair back and stood up.

San was sure Wooyoung was just teasing. He was the same way with his own sister.

“Nooo! Mom said I could hang out with you guys.”

“She did not. You’re being distracting. How’s he supposed to be a good tutor if you’re gonna ask him all these questions?”

“I promise I’ll be super quiet! I pinkie promise!”

“Not a chance. San? Upstairs.” Wooyoung pointed to a dark stairwell visible from the kitchen. When San didn’t move, instead standing awkwardly in the kitchen holding his backpack to his chest, Wooyoung grabbed the sleeve of his hoodie and pulled him along. San didn’t want to be rude, so he tried to stall to give Wooyoung’s brother attention for a little longer, but then Wooyoung was behind him pushing him up the stairs. San stumbled a few times, both from the hands stuck to his shoulder blades and the inconvenient way he decided to hold his backpack. A lot was happening in a short amount of time. The top of the stairs was dim and strangely quiet. Wooyoung was next to him suddenly, and San was being pulled away by the sleeve of his hoodie again. San could only hear the jingle of Wooyoung’s earrings and his own heart slamming against his ribcage. They entered a room at the end of the hallway, and San was yet again surprised by his tutee.

The bedroom  _ had _ to belong to Wooyoung, because why would they go to someone else’s room to study? But it  _ couldn’t _ have been Wooyoung’s room because it was small and bare and boring and organized. The energy was calm, but there was something else. San felt a little trapped, even though he could easily leave the room through the open door, and there was a big window with a nice view out of the side of the house. It felt like a cell. It was unnerving. Just like everything else about Jung Wooyoung.

He kept looking around the room, but he took it all in after five seconds because there was nothing to take in. There was a full-sized bed in the far left corner. Across from it in the far right corner was a desk with a reading lamp and a comfy swivel chair. In the corner to the right of the door was a small bookshelf with no books, just stuff. There  _ were _ some mangas, but San didn’t recognize them, so he bypassed them.  _ Was this really it? _ But he had to ask himself, what was he expecting? Walls covered in graffiti, posters everywhere, an unmade bed, clothes all over the floor, not a study space in sight? San’s eyes were open to another truth: Wooyoung did not live in excess like the hallway whispers suggested. His house was small and cozy, his family was welcoming and warm, his personal space was quiet and simple. San had so many questions. 

“I’m halfway done with the assignment, so I’ll keep working and then you can look at it.” Wooyoung sat in the swivel chair and spun towards the desk. He immediately got to work as he said he would. San was still standing in the doorway like a stupid idiot.

“Uhh, where should I sit?” San took a baby step into the room.

“Bed,” Wooyoung said without looking up from his work.

San nodded and sat on the bed like it would shatter if he put his full weight down. He didn’t know what gave him away, but Wooyoung slowly swiveled around and stared at him, still in his study-hunch. His necklace was dangling half-out of his shirt. Could he sense San’s awkwardness? He wasn’t usually like this with his students, and he’d gone to plenty of his student’s houses to teach them before.

“Don’t look so uncomfortable, San. I washed my sheets yesterday. Just relax and work on those covalent bonds like you were doing downstairs. I’ll be sure to ask how to spell the English word for ‘because’ at least once more.”

San managed to not apologize out loud (because he remembers Wooyung mentioned he hates it when people apologize for little things. He said it “loses sentiment for when it really matters, and people should be asking for forgiveness rather than just apologizing and expecting the other person to say ‘it’s okay’.”)

Wooyoung worked for thirty minutes uninterrupted. San forced himself to relax and sat upright against the wall that the bed was cornered in. He would watch Wooyoung for several minutes at once; he’d watch him stop writing, flip through his English book or a Korean-English dictionary, and then pick up his pen again and write several lines without stopping. San was pleased to know Wooyoung didn’t  _ really _ need him there to do the assignment after all. But it of course helped to have someone around who knew what they were doing.

“Alright, done! That’s four written pages of what I would do on vacation in an English-speaking country. Y’ever considered visiting Canada instead of America?” Wooyoung swiveled 180 degrees. He stood, took a step towards the bed, and plopped onto the space next to San. The mattress bounced, absorbing the impact. “You can check it now.” Wooyoung pressed his back into the wall, mirroring San’s posture.

San nodded, climbed off the bed without grace, and sat in the swivel chair. It was as comfy as it looked, and still warm from Wooyoung’s own body. He spun around and got to work.

~

Everytime San would find an error, he’d show Wooyoung right away and make him fix it. San was doing a lot of swiveling. Well, it was more like San would announce the error, and then Wooyoung would spin him around and demand to know why he was wrong. There were some small mistakes, but his work was well-done for someone who was failing the class.

“You shouldn’t use the past tense here, since you’re supposed to be ‘planning’ this theoretical vacation, remember?” San pointed at the last sentence of the assignment.

“Ugh, there’s too many rules to follow! I’ll just get marks off on that part, I don’t care,” Wooyoung scoffed.

“I do, though. What kind of tutor would I be if I just let you fail? Please fix it, Wooyoung.” San held out the workbook. “I know you know what the right word is.”

“Maybe I do,” Wooyoung stood up and was suddenly right there in front of San, who couldn’t sink any deeper into the chair to create some personal space. The pen in his hand was snatched away (as always when working with Wooyoung), and there was audible scribbling as Wooyoung fixed his error. He then slapped the workbook closed and pressed it to San’s chest, clicked the pen, and sat back on his bed with a smug smile.

“And it’s finally done. You know, that’s probably the first time I’ve ever done an assignment on the day it was assigned.” Wooyoung said while folding one leg under the other.

“Well, maybe we can fix that habit,” San placed the workbook on the desk behind him. He lined up the pen perfectly vertical in the middle. He finally swiveled around and found Wooyoung glaring at him. Again. “What?”

Wooyoung narrowed his eyes and San was fully expecting to get dragged to hell with insults, but instead Wooyoung asked, “How many people have you tutored before me?” He was spinning a small, silver signet ring on his pinkie.

“Huh? H-how many?” San cocked his head to the side. “Uhhmm… I don’t know, definitely more than twenty? I’ve been doing this for two years now. Sometimes I’ll have more than one student at a time, sometimes I’ll do bigger groups, around five people. W-why do you ask?”

“Am I not allowed to get to know you? I don’t remember signing any contract. And my brother already thinks we’re friends anyways...”

“W—no! That’s not it at all! We can talk about whatever you want! Unless you have more homework that you’re procrastinating and haven't told me about, which would be bad, since you’re supposed to send me lists of your homework assignments every day—”

“Okay, I get it!” Wooyoung held up his hand. “You’re thorough! And no, I don’t have any outstanding assignments. But you’re not my mentor, you know. Why do you care so much about my whole schedule?”

“Stop that, I just want to help you be a good student.” San pushed Wooyoung’s hand away. “And it’s fine that you want to get to know me, really. I know those rumors about you are just rumors.” 

Wooyoung released a grumbled sigh and fell backwards on the bed. He spoke towards the ceiling: “What are they saying about me now? I haven’t heard anything creative since last summer.”

San was taken aback by this. Just when San thought he was starting to figure him out, Wooyoung would surprise him. He’d never met anyone with this attitude towards rumors before. And what did Wooyoung mean by ‘creative’? Does this mean that they’ve always been false rumors?

“Uhm, well… I’ve heard the canteen banter… uhm, how do I put this?” San felt so out of place. He should be having a completely different conversation with Wooyoung, in a completely different context. But no. San was spinning around in Jung Wooyoung’s swivel chair on a Monday night while Wooyoung himself was sprawled out on his bed and they were gossiping about school rumors. 

“Don’t be shy,” Wooyoung said from the bed.

“People say you’re… in a gang, and that you, uhm, live alone with your dad in some recluse mansion with tons of bodyguards. Oh, and that your dad does shady work. Like… illegal stuff. That’s the jist of it.”

Wooyoung propped himself up on his elbows. San had expected him to be troubled or angry, but his face was pensive. “That  _ is _ creative…”

Since Wooyoung was terribly unpredictable, San didn’t know what else to say.

“None of it’s true, obviously.” Wooyoung laid back down. “As you can see, I don’t live in a recluse mansion with tons of bodyguards. My dad  _ does _ do shady work sometimes, but that’s what happens when you’re chief of police.”

“What?! He’s the police chief? Your dad is the chief of police? What?”

“That’s what I said.”

“Well, what about the… gang stuff? Is that true?” San asked.

Wooyoung stopped mid-stretch and sat bolt-upright.

“Hell no, fuck no! Never in my life am I gonna help that fucking Park Seonghwa motherfucker! That jackass thinks he can get me to join his dumb little squad of pricks, but he’s got another thing coming. You know he followed me after I picked up my little brother at school a few weeks ago? Thinking he can just show up whenever the fuck he feels like it, calling me ‘bro’, expecting me to respect him, can you believe that? He can fuck off and dance in traffic for all I care.”

San could hardly keep up. Wooyoung was talking so fast and his dialect was going off-kilter and San didn’t think Wooyoung took a breath until he got it all out. He guessed this is what Wooyoung is like when he’s venting to one of his close friends, like Kang Yeosang. San was not Yeosang, and he  _ really _ didn’t know what to say now. Does he provide advice? Consolations? Apologies?

“Well, uh, rumors are just rumors?” San offered.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Wooyoung waved him off. “Do you want to try, then?”

“T-try what?”

“To get to know each other. Do you want to be friends?”

San thought for a moment so as to not seem too eager. “Yes, of course, Wooyoung.”

“Then we’re friends. I'm a man of my word, and you can count on that.”

San nodded. He risked a glance at his wristwatch and saw that it was past 11:00PM.  _ Shit! I’ve got early practice tomorrow! _

“Uhm, so, I don’t mean to be rude, but I’ve got practice tomorrow morning before school, and I should have been asleep an hour ago… It’s just that it’s quite dark out and I think it’s raining… Would you be able to drive me home?” San felt terrible asking his tutee for a ride home.

“Yeah, sure,” Wooyoung stood up and adjusted his rumpled clothes. “We’re friends now, remember? C’mon, time to go home.” He waved San out of the room.

The car ride was quiet and awkward, so of course it felt like 30 minutes had passed (when in reality, it was more like five) before San was finally thanking Wooyoung for the ride home and slamming the passenger door closed. He passed through the gate ( _ plink! _ ), locked it, and sadly looked upon his dark house. No one home, or already asleep. Wooyoung’s home had a completely different vibe. It was bright and cozy and full of life. San’s house was dark and imposing and quiet, and for the first time ever, San was not looking forward to the usual silence of his home at bedtime. He wanted noise and lights and activity and…  _ Oh.  _ Company.

San wanted company. And not just anyone’s company. San wanted boisterous Jung Wooyoung who distracted himself with his jewelry when they were studying something important. He wanted energetic Jung Wooyoung who would furiously tap his pen on the table when he practiced speaking English. He wanted vying Jung Wooyoung who would lightly slap San’s hand or arm after being told he was wrong.

San wanted to spend time with his new friend.

That’s what it was.

Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i KNOW wooyoung isnt """""""mean"""""" irl to his little brother, but i just wanted to add a little spice to his middle child complex


	8. San

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaand a baby san chapter to close off this round of chapter updates. thank you to everyone who has read thus far and left kudos! there is much more to come, i promise!

Six hours is not enough sleep. San basically punched his alarm clock to make the blaring noise stop. He rolled out of bed, threw his practice clothes on, brushed his teeth, and was out the door by 5:45AM. He’d get to the practice gym with five minutes to spare.

To make matters worse, San couldn’t stop his brain from wandering. His mind was usually blank when he had to wake up early like this, before even the Sun has a chance to stretch its warm embrace over the Earth. This morning, his brain was overworking, replaying the memories from last night that were slowly resurfacing through the murk of his tired mind. The events of last night fell into place, all leading up to San trudging through his sleeping house (San was greeted by Wooyoung’s admittedly pissed off face when he arrived for their session), walking up the stairs alone (Wooyoung had pushed him all the way up earlier), sitting on his bed alone (the bed was the only other place to sit in Wooyoung’s bedroom other than the floor), and finally deciding to go to sleep well past midnight (Wooyoung had looked about ready to fall asleep all last night).

San tried to push all these thoughts out of his mind, but they stood their ground. He sighed, deciding he would just have to let them replay again and again until his brain found something else to keep him from boredom. It was almost six o’clock in the morning when San pushed open the double doors to the practice gym. He could hear the volleyballs smacking the gym floor from across the street. Finally, his mind cleared. He inhaled deeply, already feeling the stiffness leave his shoulders. He just needed to jump around for a bit and he would feel better. Yeah… that was it.

“Koosung! Toss for me, I’ll be ready in two minutes.”

~

San found Yeosang and Wooyoung waiting for him outside of the gym. Wait—Wooyoung? Jung Wooyoung was waiting for Choi San to get out of volleyball practice? For what?

“Hey, Yeosang, Wooyoung. What brings you two here?” San adjusted his backpack straps.

“I’m here to fetch you, duh,” Yeosang didn’t look up from his phone; he was furiously typing on the keyboard.

San nodded and then raised his brow at Wooyoung, expecting a, “I’m just following him,” or something snarky like that. Instead, Wooyoung shrugged and said, “Can’t I walk a friend to class?”

_ Okay, did not expect that. _

San shrugged back. “Shall we?” He walked next to Wooyoung. Yeosang fell into step behind the pair with a lazer focus on his cellphone.

“What classes do you have this morning?” San asked to avoid any awkward silence.

“You know the answer to that. You have my schedule,” Wooyoung bumped his shoulder against San’s.

“Maybe so,” San replied.

“What about you? I don’t have  _ your _ schedule, so what does the top student do during his morning classes? Teach the lessons? I didn’t even know you played volleyball. Some friend you’re turning out to be.”

San laughed at that and tried not to feel lame about it because really, it wasn’t even that funny. But he let out a good laugh and shook his head. “You know the answer to that,” he parroted.

The trio (that could pass as a pair because Yeosang didn’t even seem to be going in the same direction half the time because he was still on his damn phone) got several looks in the hallways as they passed through the maze of the high school. Wooyoung dropped San and Yeosang off at their classroom with six minutes to spare.

“I have another student I’ll be tutoring this evening, so let me know if you want to meet up today and work on anything. And don’t forget to send me your list of assignments today because you forgot yesterday!” San yelled down the hallway; Wooyoung had started to back away with a stupid little grin on his face.

“Sure thing, Fruitcake!” Wooyoung yelled back.

San pushed Yeosang into their classroom in hopes to hide his own stupid little grin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> will we ever get the thanxx mv or yall just think kq posted that on accident


	9. Wooyoung

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YAAAALLLLL the thanxx mv was so good jdfdjfdjf we finally got ponytail wooyoung delicious finally some good fucking food

Wooyoung supposed his bad habits sprung from his lack of things to do when he wasn't busy zoning out in school. It was a Tuesday night, and Wooyoung stood in the middle of an empty park with a few friends passing around a blunt and a bottle of soju.

“Wooyoung. Hey, Jung Wooyoung!” One of the four others called. He wore all black, his hair was in his eyes, and his handsome jaw was slanted like it had been punched out of place.

Wooyoung blinked back into focus and puffed. “What is it now, Changbin?”

“I asked if you’ve seen Park Seonghwa lately,” Seo Changbin drawled.

“Ugh, don’t say his name right now. I’ve had it up to  _ here,” _ Wooyoung held his hand above his head, “With that asshole.”

“Stop being like that, Wooyoung. We all know you owe him big time, we all know he’s never done you wrong, we—”

“Enough,” Another voice in their group spoke out. Kang Yeosang held his hands out to keep their tempers in check. “Changbin, lock it up. It’s not your business. And Wooyoung, don’t lose your temper over a name. It’s unbecoming of you. And besides, Changbin is kinda right. Park Seonghwa is not a bad guy. Your hate for him is irrational. At least for now, just let it go.”

Wooyoung set his jaw and threatened to stomp out the blunt. He instead took another hit, much to the dismay of the group (they’d agreed it was one per person, per round). Wooyoung wanted to complain, but he didn’t want his bad words to follow him. He didn’t really know the other two people in their group. They were both friends of Changbin. He thinks one of them has the surname “Im”. The other, a girl with a buzzed head, said her name was Lee. Wooyoung didn’t care who she was. He just didn’t want anyone snitching on their conversations. But he trusted Changbin, so he’d have to trust Im No Name and Lee, as well.

“Fine, we won’t talk about your quarrel with the ‘big guy’... Who’s that shrimp you’ve been hanging around with lately?” Changbin said ‘shrimp’ as if he were not a shorty himself. “Wait a minute, you’re in the same class, right?” He pointed to Yeosang and then passed the blunt to him.

“Why do you care? Bored with your underclassmen friends?” Wooyoung retaliated. He set down the bottle of soju after taking a big swig.

“I  _ don’t _ care, except you’re suddenly having lunch with him all the time while  _ studying _ with him?? Fuck is that all about? Are you in his dick-sand or something? Does he have you legally bound? Cause my mom can get you out of any contract, you know, she’s at—”

“Changbin! Shut up! What the fuck are you saying!? Dick-sand? Just shut up!” Lee suddenly piped up. Her voice was a lot deeper than Wooyoung expected. He immediately liked her.

“You know, it’s like quicksand, but with dudes you’re attracted to and you don’t know how to handle it. Dick-sand,” Changbin shrugged.

Wooyoung heard Yeosang sigh next to him.

“He’s my tutor,” Wooyoung answered. They didn’t need to know San’s name.

“Tutor?” Changbin said the word like it was his first time.

“Yeah. I won’t graduate if I don’t pass English. Got my ass handed to me last week by my dad at the station, actually. Rainstorm. Keying cars in the lot. Resisting arrest. You know how it is.”

“And?” Changbin raised his brow.

“Overnighter,” Wooyoung shrugged.

“Attaboy.”

Yeosang sighed again.

“Got a problem?” Wooyoung looked to Yeosang on his right.

“No,” Yeosang grumbled.

“Liar.”

“Honest. It’s not my business. I wanna go home.”

“Fine. I’ll send you off,” Wooyoung handed the soju bottle to Im No Name, who nodded gratefully. He immediately handed it to Lee, who took a big swig. (Oh yeah, Wooyoung definitely liked her.) After Changbin was done being a prick, Wooyoung would have to ask for her number. He wanted her around for these little hangouts.

Luckily, Yeosang lived on the way to Wooyoung’s house, so they strode along the outskirts of the park, enjoying the night air. They didn’t talk much, except for Yeosang asking for a ride to school tomorrow and Friday morning. Wooyoung agreed, and they were silent again. It wasn’t awkward despite their terse words, probably because he was higher than a kite, but he didn’t consider that at all.

They arrived at Yeosang’s house, equally as small and cozy as Wooyoung’s. Yeosang let himself in. Wooyoung waited for a minute before Yeosang returned with a small bag of chips. It was custom for Yeosang to supply snacks for Wooyoung’s munchies whenever they went out for a smoking session. It was like payment for always getting a ride from Wooyoung. And he also wanted to just take care of Wooyoung.

Wooyoung, on the other hand, just wanted to be in bed, so he walked quickly home and went through the sneaking-back-in-on-a-school-night ritual: Remove shoes. Tip-toe through the house, up the stairs. Remove jacket. Hang jacket outside the window to remove marijuana smell. Strip. All clothes in the sealed hamper. Quick body-shower. Into bed.

He set his “pick up Yeosang” alarm for the next morning and was out cold before he heard his text-tone go off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter brought to you by: me being surprised but also not surprised that wooyoung is close friends with changbin


	10. San

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes i know the previous chapter was short but here is the MEAT of the update

San didn’t know why he was texting Wooyoung at midnight. He didn’t know why he himself was awake at midnight. He’d woken with a start after only two hours of sleep. He tried everything to fall back asleep: drink water, use the toilet, clear the mind, count sheep, envision the ideal day. Nothing was working, and San was getting frustrated. He saw the flash of an idea in his mind, the whole scenario playing out in under a second. Either San was desperate, or delirious, because he was ripping his cellphone from its charger and opening his Messages app. He opened the chat with Jung Wooyoung and looked at their previous texts with a fond smirk. Wooyoung wasn’t much of a texter. He would rarely send more than two lines of text. He preferred to send single emojis, or the little teddy bear emoticons that conveyed way too much emotion for how cute they were. San found it endearing.

San: _Any chance you’re awake?_

San: _I need some tips on how to fall back asleep._

San: _Sorry if I woke you._

It was too late to wish he hadn't pressed ‘send’. Because he’d done it. And he felt like a fool. Wooyoung was probably the last person he should be asking for sleep wellness advice. He shouldn’t be texting Wooyoung anyways. Though San had to keep reminding himself they were technically friends, he shouldn’t go bugging someone he barely knew in the middle of the night. But he’d done it anyways. San slammed his phone screen-down on the bedside table. He gripped the roots of his hair.

“What is happening to you, San?” He spoke towards the dark ceiling. With little hope, he rolled onto his side and longed to be unconscious.

~

Wednesday didn’t start well. It got better during lunch when San received a text from Wooyoung.

Wooyoung: _got a free period today, you?_

San: _I have a class after lunch, and then a free space._

Wooyoung: _wanna meet up?_

San: _I’ll be in the library._

Wooyoung: _see ya_

A little white bunny popped up on San’s phone screen showing a thumbs up and a grin. San smiled, shook his head, and pocketed his phone. He met Yunho’s eye from across the table, but San just waved him off. Yunho bumped his shoulder against Song Mingi sitting next to him. They both stifled their laughs, but San knew it was directed at him.

“What?” San asked while pocketing his phone.

“Nothing, nothing,” Yunho swished his chopsticks in the air. “You’re just uncharacteristically happy because of _something_ on that phone.”

“Or someone,” Mingi added.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” San curled over his stir fry and shoved a spoonful in his mouth.

“I think it’s cute,” Yunho teased.

“Keep us updated!” Mingi wiggled his eyebrows.

“You guys are like the Terrible Twins, or something,” San grumbled. He shoveled in more food to avoid the incoming interrogation. “I’ve gotta go to the library during the free period.”

“Ugh, again?” Yunho and Mingi whined in unison.

“Yes, _again._ Let’s go, we all got class in eight minutes.”

The pair grumbled but left with San anyways. He couldn’t help but think they would be a perfect couple. The silly thought made him smile.

~

San texted Wooyoung where he was seated in the library. He told himself he wouldn’t pile onto Wooyoung if (and when) he arrived late, but his resolve cracked upon seeing Wooyoung stroll around the corner and scan the many empty tables for his tutor. Luckily, Wooyoung spoke before San could start nagging.

“Apparently I have an outstanding book rental,” Wooyoung tossed his backpack onto the table. “Told the librarian I didn’t have it. Got scolded. Apparently, it’s been in my bag for the past two weeks.” He sat with a shrug and propped his head on his hands.

San nodded along, trying to imagine that scenario.

Wooyoung stared him down for an agonizing handful of seconds before saying, “Why’d you text me last night at midnight?”

“Huh?” San was unprepared for this confrontation.

Wooyoung pulled his phone from his blazer. “You texted me last night.” He showed San his phone screen; his three messages laid unanswered in the box.

“Oh. _That._ ” San had to come up with a lie. “I was… I just couldn’t sleep.” Half-lie. “You were the third person I tried. I don’t do well on little sleep. You were probably knocked out like everyone else.”

“Guess so…” Wooyoung shrugged again and pocketed his phone.

“Okay!” San scooted closer to the small circle table. He didn’t want the conversation to drift into a weird place. “What are we working on today?”

“Nothing much. We got new vocabulary yesterday, so I should probably look at that.”

San nodded once. “Anything else you’re forgetting?”

Wooyoung squinted his eyes. “No?”

“Your assignment lists, Wooyoung. I need them every day. And _not_ at ten o’clock at night. Right after school.”

“Alright, alright, don’t nag me. Here, just look at it now.” He pulled a small journal from his back. Not your typical planner, but it was at least being used academically.

While San flipped through to find this week’s layout, he asked, “If vocab is the only thing you want to do, why not ask a classmate?”

“You told me today would work.” Wooyoung’s voice sounded… more terse than normal.

San looked up from trying to decipher his tutee’s chicken scratch. “Today does work. I’m just curious. Even though I’m your tutor, your classmates probably have a better grasp on what’s going on during class than me. After all, they’re learning it with you. I also don’t know your teacher, whereas your classmates might know ways to make her like you.”

“Well, she doesn’t _not_ like me,” Wooyoung pouted.

“But…?”

“That’s besides the point. Are you gonna help me, or not?”

“Of course I will help you. That’s what I’m here for. And,” San returned the planner. “That’s what friends are for.” He paid careful attention to the way Wooyoung tried too hard to keep his mouth in a flat line.

Wooyoung dragged his chair to the space next to San, extracted the vocab list from the void that is his backpack, and handed it to San.

“You say the English.” He rested his foot on the spindle of San’s chair. He was… very close. He put his other foot in between San’s feet. The evil part of San’s brain warned that Wooyoung would flip his chair, but the rational part of his brain assured him to relax because he was truthfully very comfortable. 

They worked through the list. Slowly. Wooyoung confessed that he did not pay attention at all during class yesterday, so he didn’t know any of the new material. After going through it twice, Wooyoung was losing his focus. He kept looking around and out the big windows that promised the students there was a better world just beyond the smudged glass. He fidgeted a lot, but stayed close—folding his legs into a four-shape and resting his knee on San’s thigh, drumming his fingers on the backrest of San’s chair, asking for a fist-bump whenever he got a word right. Eventually, he stretched across the table, arms reaching forward like a cat. He grumbled something incoherent, but San was sure he heard the phrase “fucking stupid” in there somewhere. Wooyoung pillowed his cheek on bent elbows; San wrote notes on the vocabulary list, and didn’t know he was being watched until he reached for a highlighter.

“You like that we’re friends now,” Wooyoung said. It was not a question.

San processed the words before nodding. He didn’t trust himself to say anything other than embarrassing stutters. 

“Me too.” Wooyoung closed his eyes and sighed.

San didn’t try to hide the smile on his lips. He finished up the notes and capped the highlighter. It wasn’t hard to figure out that Wooyoung was done learning for now. So, he cleaned up their table, and when he was done, realized he had two choices. He could get Wooyoung’s attention like a normal person and just say his name, or he could do what he _really_ wanted to do. But San didn’t give himself time to choose because he was already reaching out and _oh my god_ he’s touching Wooyoung and _oh no too late_ he’s grabbing his shoulder and _did you think this through?_ he’s moving his hand across Wooyoung’s shoulder blade.

“Hey,” San said in a low voice. “Come get a drink with me?” _Very smooth._

Wooyoung opened his eyes and gave his usual glare, but it didn’t have the same effect on San as usual. He just looked so… serene. Then his eyebrows came together as he lifted his head.

“Like… tonight?” Wooyoung asked. His left cheek was red.

“W-no! I mean right now, come downstairs to the vending machines with me. What did you think I meant?”

“You know, drinks. Bar. Club. Party.”

“Okay, that’s absolutely not what I meant. Do you want to come with me, or not?” San checked his wristwatch. “Class is in twelve minutes.” 

“Sure, why not,” Wooyoung shrugged.

The pair headed out side-by-side and found the best vending machines (hiding just around the corner from the most used ones, right next to a custodian closet) thanks to San’s knowledge of the school’s secrets.

“I didn’t know these were here,” Wooyoung commented after San pulled him around the corner.

“No one does,” San smiled.

“Perks of being a teacher’s pet.”

“I am not,” San lightly slapped Wooyoung’s arm.

“Are too.”

“Wrong.”

“Right.”

“Shut up!”

“Make me!”

San immediately backed down, hiking his backpack higher on his back.

“Since we’re sharing secrets, it’s my turn. What do you want?” Wooyoung leaned against the glowing machine.

“Huh?”

“To drink. What do you want? Coke? Banana milk? Name it.”

“Uh… Coke is fine.”

Wooyoung hummed with a smile. “Good choice. Now let me do my thing.”

San didn’t know what that meant, so he just peered over Wooyoung’s shoulder and watched him poke the keypad.

“You know you need money for this, right?” San raised his brow.

“Don’t I?” Wooyoung smirked. The machine growled and spit out a plastic bottle of Coca-Cola.

“W-how? How did you do that?” San sputtered.

“You have your ways,” Wooyoung offered the bottle to San. “And I have mine.” He turned around again and jabbed the keypad. The machine growled once more and spit out another bottle, free of charge. They walked away from the vending machines and started down a hallway. San wasn’t paying attention, he was just following Wooyoung.

“I don’t think this is allowed,” San looked around for nobody. He was secretly impressed.

“If you don’t want it, give it back. I’m sure my brother will enjoy it. I’ve gotta go pick him up, by the way, so I’ll see you later. Oh and,” Wooyoung reached into his black hole backpack and extracted a white envelope. “Your tutor money. If you want me to not pay a lump sum every once in a while, let me know.” He handed San the envelope. “Bye!” Wooyoung raised his own Coke bottle and walked in the direction of the parking lot.

 _Oh,_ San thought. _That’s right. This is my job._ He looked at the envelope with his name written in small, scratchy hangul. San had completely forgotten that he hadn’t just been helping Wooyoung as a friendly gesture.

He wouldn’t see Wooyoung for two days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guys its finally gonna get spicy after this


	11. Wooyoung

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yall that was the longest 2 weeks of my life. school has started again and i havent been this busy since march o.o literally havent used my brain in 5 months yikes  
> with that being said i hope you are ready to suffer through this single chapter update (yes, i know, but this is a slow burn). this was actually the second part of the fic i ever wrote! The end of ch.2 was the first thing that came to me. The whole scene played out in my head after i saw the tweet by @atcczs on twt, which is what prompted this whole damn thing. So yeah this chapter has been waiting to be set free for MONTHS and she’s finally here yay  
> also just wanted to say that the “umbrella hwachae” vlive was really cute but that watermelon potion looks like death so happy halloween to me i guess

Wooyoung hated the rain. So, of course, every time he was being chased by a police officer on-foot, it was pouring. He would have “come quietly” if the officer were his older brother. But it wasn’t. So he took off running. If there was one thing to be thankful for concerning the constant rain, it was that thunderstorms were rare. Still, Wooyoung would never willingly step into a rainstorm if he had the choice. Doing illegal things before a rainstorm doesn’t count. He was out and about well before the sky decided to empty its wet guts all over town, thank you very much. And yet, as much as he hated it, running for his life in the pouring rain was familiar. The little puddles in his boots and the way the wet leather of his jacket rubbed against the back of his neck was something he was very accustomed to.

In the dark of the night, Wooyoung didn’t notice that the street he was fleeing down was a dead-end. He came to a hard stop in front of a stone wall that was roughly six feet high.

“No biggie,” Wooyoung flicked his wet hair out of his eyes. He looked for a bucket or a foothold somewhere, _anything_ to help get him over the wall. He heard yelling in the distance. The cop was very close now. If he didn’t want to go to sleep with a broken nose, Wooyoung had to get over the wall _now._

He found a part of the wall with a small chunk missing about four feet up. _I can manage that,_ Wooyoung thought. He jammed his toe into the spot and hoisted himself up. He heard yelling again, but it was much closer. The police officer must have been holding a flashlight as well because there was a bright light shaking madly from behind. Wooyoung dared to peer over his shoulder before completely making it over the top. The wet stone caused him to slip. His arm slid forward. In a panic, Wooyoung scrambled. And then he hit the ground. And it was dark. And he was still getting rained on.

“Holy fuck,” Wooyoung breathed. He’d cleared the wall. He quickly sat up and crawled back to the wall, pressing his back against the stone. Suddenly, he felt a sharp pain in his left hand. Wooyoung winced as he tried to inspect his hand in the darkness. He gently ran his fingers over his palm and hissed at the contact. There was a gash across his palm. Wooyoung couldn’t tell if he was bleeding profusely, or not at all. He waited, though, to be sure that the cop wasn’t trying to follow him over the wall. They usually aren’t this determined to chase him. Especially for petty things like vandalism. They also don’t show up that quickly. Wooyoung was surprised, and maybe a little impressed. _Probably a rookie… Always doing the most._

After waiting for a few minutes, Wooyoung slowly stood up and shook himself out, not that it mattered. It was still raining, and it didn’t seem to be letting up any time soon. He had no idea where he was, but after observing his surroundings, he determined that he was not in a park like he initially thought. He was in someone’s backyard. Someone’s very luxurious backyard. And then he decided he really did not want to be there, because he could get in a lot of trouble for trespassing if the person was wealthy enough. And based on the landscaping alone, they were wealthy enough.

Wooyoung knew he couldn’t go back the way he came, so he walked along the wall, sheltered by trees, far away from the imposing house on the property, looking for any break in the stone that would allow him to escape unseen. But his hand was probably bleeding and it hurt and the rain was getting worse and he was soaked to his bones and he just wanted to get out of this situation. At this point, he wouldn’t mind the holding cell at the station. Wooyoung hugged himself and tried to keep calm, weighing his options. Just as he was going to opt for sleeping under a tree for the night, a second-story window lit up from the large house on the property. Curious, bored, and lonely was Wooyoung who looked into the window. And there Choi San was, walking towards a desk and organizing whatever sat on it. _Is this… where San lives? This is his house?_

Wooyoung was laying in the wet grass at this point, deciding what to do. He didn’t give himself much time to think, though, because he was ripping his cell phone out of his pocket and dialing San’s number. He watched San through the window, praying he would answer the call. San looked over his left shoulder, walked away, and returned to the desk at the window. He took a seat, phone pressed to his cheek.

“Jung Wooyoung?” San’s voice was inquisitive. His face matched.

Wooyoung was silent. His eyes went wide upon realizing what he was doing.

“Wooyoung?” San asked again.

“Uhm… can you…” Wooyoung blanked.

“Wooyoung, are you alright? Why are you calling me?”

“Can you, uh, let me in?” Wooyoung watched San stand up.

“Let you in? Where are you? Are—are you at my house?”

“I’m… in your backyard, actually. Let me in, it’s raining.”

Wooyoung watched San walk away from the window. The hand holding his cell phone dropped to his side. He hit his forehead with the heel of his hand about four times. “Stupid, stupid, stupid, Wooyoung!”

The back door of the house opened. Light flooded into the backyard. San stood in the doorway. “Jung Wooyoung?” He called to the rain.

Wooyoung’s feet moved without permission. He stood in front of San, dripping wet, clutching his hand to his chest. He must have looked pitiful because San’s shoulders slumped, and the way he gawked at Wooyoung said _‘Are you serious right now?’_

“Come on,” San waved him inside. “But be quiet. And take your shoes off here, you’ll track mud in.”

Wooyoung kicked his shoes off and left them at the door. “Are your parents home?” He asked as he tipped his head to the side to remove water.

“Yes, but they’re sleeping…” San crossed his arms and looked Wooyoung up and down. “So, are you gonna tell me what you were doing in my backyard?”

“I’d rather not,” Wooyoung shivered.

“Wooyoung!”

“Hey! I thought you said your parents were asleep!” Wooyoung looked around as if someone would pop up out of nowhere and send him back into the rainstorm.

San groaned and grabbed Wooyoung’s arm. He pulled him through the house, up the stairs, and through one of the many doors on the second floor. The room was presumably San’s bedroom; Wooyoung saw his backpack at the foot of the large bed. The space was well organized, just like everything else concerning Choi San. There was a large desk in the far corner next to a wall of windows. Wooyoung guessed that this was the same room he saw San in before calling him. There were paintings of plants decorating the walls. It seemed more like the bedroom of an employed adult rather than a high school student.

San approached Wooyoung with a folded shirt and sweatpants. He held out the clothes. Wooyoung just stared back and forth from the clothes to San’s face.

“Go take a shower and change into these. You’ll catch a cold if you stay in those wet clothes any longer.” San continued holding the clothes. Wooyoung continued staring.

“Shower is in the next room over. There should be extra towels in the closet. Just go, Wooyoung! You’re making me cold with all your shivering.” He pressed the clothes against Wooyoung’s chest and walked back to his desk. Wooyoung stood there for a few moments before finally regaining control of his limbs.

He stuck his head out the door and peered down the dim hallway. He really did not want to run into any of San’s family members. It would be hard for both of them to explain, especially because San didn’t even know why Wooyoung was there in the first place. But he was kind enough to let him in and offer him dry clothes, so that was something. Wooyoung crept down the hallway and slipped into the bathroom as quietly as possible. He quickly stripped and managed to figure out the shower, though he was afraid to twist too many knobs, lest he accidentally set off an alarm. _Seriously, why are there so many knobs in this damn shower??_

After Wooyoung was clean, warm, and wearing San’s clothes, he inspected the cut on his hand. It wasn’t as bad as he assumed, but it was big and still hurt. He couldn’t find any bandages in the bathroom, so he would have to ask San where they were kept. He really didn’t want to deal with an infection, too, tonight. Wooyoung crept back into San’s bedroom and closed the door without making too much noise. He released a big sigh and leaned back against the door.

“So, are you gonna tell me what you’re doing here?” San was laying on his bed, arms stretched above him with his cell phone in-hand.

Wooyoung got startled, dropped his wet clothes, pressed his injured hand to his chest, and winced. He shook out his left hand to relieve the pain and inspected the cut again.

“What is it now?” San sat up and tossed his phone away.

“Nothing,” Wooyoung held his hand to his chest.

“Lemme see,” San came towards him with his hand out.

Wooyoung showed his palm. 

San glared at him. “You could have at least told me about _that._ ”

“No. I can take care of it myself. You just didn’t have bandages in your bathroom.” Wooyoung took his hand back and pouted.

“How am I supposed to take care of you if you act like this?” San put his hands on his hips.

“It doesn’t matter. I’ll be outta here soon, anyways.” Wooyoung ruffled his drying hair.

San stepped closer. “Let me. Please?”

One look at San’s pleading eyes and he was a goner.

Wooyoung gave in. “Fine,” he muttered.

San immediately perked up. “Lucky for you, I have a first aid kit in here. Sit,” he pointed to the bed.

“Of course you do,” Wooyoung slumped.

San brought a small, red, zip bag with a white cross on it. He sat close to Wooyoung, pulled his injured hand to his lap, and inspected the cut. His whole left side was warm from the contact. San smelled clean.

“It’s not too bad,” San commented before retrieving antiseptic and a bandage. He quickly cleaned the wound and bandaged it. Wooyoung’s hand was all wrapped up, but San didn’t let go.

“How did this happen?” San asked.

Wooyoung looked at their conjoined hands, and then at his feet. “I can’t say.”

“Why?”

“It’s just a cut. It doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it does! I’m… I’m worried about you, Wooyoung. I haven’t seen you in days and you show up at my house in the middle of a rainstorm? And you tell me it doesn’t matter? Seriously?”

“Don’t be worried,” Wooyoung finally looked at San. Concern pulled his eyebrows together.

“Your words won’t stop me.”

They held eye contact for what felt like ages. Wooyoung wasn’t sure he was breathing. His chest felt tight. He cleared his throat and pulled his hands away. When did their faces get so close?

“Uhm,” San stood up and put away the first aid kit. “I won’t kick you out… since it’s still raining. You can… wait here until it stops.”

“Thanks.” Wooyoung sat very still at the edge of the bed. He was unsure where to be. The bed felt… too intimate for him. The desk chair looked too stiff. The floor was uninviting hardwood. He inspected the bandage on his hand. It was a lot easier to have San in his own bedroom than the other way around.

The bed dipped, and then San’s voice came from behind him. “Since you’re not gonna tell me why or how you got here… tell me about your family.”

“Huh?” Wooyoung spun around. San was sitting cross-legged against the headboard.

“Humor me. To pass time. What are your parents like? Do you have any more siblings? I remember your little brother. Who do you hang out with at school?” San fired off questions.

“What do you want me to answer first?”

Wooyoung answered all of the questions with few details. He noticed that San was true to his word and didn’t pry any further into Wooyoung’s strange appearing act. He was almost impressed with how calm San was about all this. Wooyoung knew this wasn’t a normal thing for either of them, but San treated it like a very normal hangout session. It’s what friends do to get to know each other, right? While Wooyoung stayed sitting in the same spot, San had gradually moved to a supine position. And when the questions stopped coming, Wooyoung looked over to see San asleep. He released a big breath and let himself tip over on the bed. He didn’t know what time it was, and he didn’t know where San’s house was located in relation to his own. He was sure he could use the Maps app on his phone to get home, but he really didn’t want to go outside again. It was still raining hard and San’s bed was comfortable and Wooyoung was warm and he _hated_ the rain. But he couldn’t overstay his welcome. So he rolled off the bed and quietly collected his wet clothes. Before leaving, Wooyoung stood next to San’s sleeping form.

“I don’t understand you, Choi San,” he whispered.

Wooyoung turned away, but something tugging at his shirt stopped him. He looked back and saw San holding the shirt. His eyes were closed but his brow was furrowed.

“Don’t leave. Don’t like it,” San mumbled.

Wooyoung didn’t know what to say to that. Was San even awake? Was he sleep-talking?

“You… want me to stay?” Wooyoung asked seriously. 

San hummed and nodded. He still hadn’t opened his eyes, making Wooyoung wonder if he was even conscious. _Is sleep-complaining a thing?_ Wooyoung dropped his clothes in a pile on the floor. He climbed into bed. San’s grip did not lessen until Wooyoung was pulling up the comforter from the foot of the bed. He paused for a moment, reaching as far as San’s death-grip would allow. He successfully turned off the lamp and finally relaxed with a sigh. San must have taken the sigh as a green light, though, because he came so close he was nearly on top of Wooyoung.

Wooyoung, flustered and suddenly unsure of what to do with his hands, slowly moved so that he held San in a sort of side-hug. “If my arm goes numb, you’re dead,” he whispered.

He didn’t care if his threat was unheard. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. He closed his eyes. This would be the first time in a long time that Wooyoung wasn’t wreaking havoc and then sneaking into his own house way too late on a Friday night. And he was okay with that. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just wanted to say that i’m writing this very niche content strictly for myself but yall are allowed to enjoy it as well if it pleases you


	12. San

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> how we hangin? i totally forgot to post this earlier in the day so it's here now! and yes, i know, another single chapter update.....ehhruehuhrugeh so saddd. but the next update will be substantial so look out for that! (not that this chapter isnt substantial, but yanno...... slow burn and all...) ANYWAYS enjoy the cliches!

San wished he could sleep in on the weekends, but his circadian rhythm didn’t allow it. So, when he felt himself rising to consciousness, he clung tighter to his pillow, pressing his face deeper into the fabric of the pillowcase. He inhaled, relishing the scent and feel of cleanliness and how soft the cloth was and how firm yet comfortable the pillow was and he pressed closer still and—wait… was that a heartbeat? San froze. He even stopped breathing for a moment so he could make sure he was only hearing his own heartbeat. Because he was alone. Right?

Wrong. 

The heartbeat San heard was not his own. Which meant that someone else was in his bed, and that someone was right next to him. And the weight over his own body was not just a particularly heavy part of the comforter. San squeezed his eyes to prevent them from opening too fast; he slowly peeked at the person in his bed. _Why can’t I remember anyone staying over last night? Wait… Oh my god… Jung Wooyoung._ San didn’t remember him leaving last night after he mysteriously appeared in his backyard in the rain, but he also didn’t remember him choosing to stay. 

San had his face pressed into Wooyoung’s chest, so he couldn’t easily move to get a good look at him without fear of waking him. Wooyoung also had his arm thrown over San’s body, holding him close. When he tried to wiggle away, Wooyoung shifted and put most of his weight on San. _Well, this at least confirms he’s still asleep._ San could kind of look at Wooyoung now. Most of his face was hidden, but from what San could see, Wooyoung looked peaceful. Which was lovely, except San had to pee. So he kept on wiggling, though his attempts to get away were futile. He eventually decided to just pick up Wooyoung’s arm and slip away, and he did just that with a surprising amount of finesse.

Looking back to gently replace Wooyoung’s arm, San saw that the left sleeve of his t-shirt was pushed up all the way to his shoulder. With a click of his tongue, San reached out to fix it. He slowly pulled away when he realized what he was doing, and when he felt his lips stretch into a smile. He also checked out Wooyoung’s bandaged hand, and was pleased to find it didn’t bleed through the wrappings.

San shook his head again and wandered off to the bathroom. When he returned, Wooyoung was in the same position. His hair was all over the place. San wasn’t sure if he should wake Wooyoung or not. It was probably really early in the morning; a glance at the clock confirmed that it was 6:22 AM. San didn’t think Wooyoung was a morning person, and they had turned in late last night, apparently. So, San pulled a book he’d been meaning to start reading from his bookshelf and sat in bed next to Wooyoung.

Wooyoung slept on for two more hours. He moved around a lot, making San look over at him each time he so much as breathed heavily. Eventually Wooyoung awoke, picking his head up (rather quickly, as if he had been shocked) from the pillow that he was face-first in. He looked left and right quickly, sat up, and looked around again until he noticed San right next to him. San looked up from his book and had to bite his lip to prevent the smile that threatened to crack his calm façade. Wooyoung’s face was swollen from sleep and there were pillowcase imprints across his cheeks. His long hair was a mess and his brow was furrowed in either confusion or disorientation. 

He made a grumbly noise and rubbed his hands up and down his face. “What time is it?” Wooyoung’s voice was scratchy.

“Almost eight-thirty,” San closed his book and set it on the bedside table. He would have tucked himself back under the bedcovers and snuggled up close if he were with literally anyone else. But he wasn’t. He was with Jung Wooyoung. Still. And he just didn’t know what he could and couldn’t do. He didn’t know if he was allowed to do a lot of things with Wooyoung.

Wooyoung groaned and fell backwards.

 _Not a morning person, then,_ San thought.

“I don’t even wanna know when you woke up, Fruitcake,” Wooyoung spoke to the ceiling.

San smiled at the nickname. He wanted to talk to Wooyoung about the fact that he slept over, but he didn’t want to admit that he had no memory of what prompted it. They _must_ have fallen asleep while they were talking, but San just couldn’t remember. They weren’t even that close; they’d only just become friends. They text all the time, and only half of it is school-related, so that counts as something, right? But they’ve never hung out alone before (and no, the tutoring sessions don’t count, even though less than half of that time is spent studying). Even though San wanted to be much closer, he certainly didn’t have the guts to ask Wooyoung to spend the night, let alone in the same bed. He would have made him sleep in the guest room if it were more “normal” circumstances.

“Well,” Wooyoung finally sat up again. He sat cross-legged right next to San. “It’s good you made me stay the night, otherwise I wouldn’t have slept this much. Had to have gotten, like, seven hours of sleep.” He rested his head on his hand. “That’s a lot for me.”

 _Made you stay…?_ San’s brows came together. He definitely did not remember outwardly telling Wooyoung to stay the night. But if Wooyoung said that’s what happened, then… He would just have to take his word for it. After all, Wooyoung was always insisting he was a “man of his words”. San tried to believe him. So far, he had always told the truth. Though, he always conveniently left out important details, or would just refuse to speak. _Can’t go against your word when you say nothing, I guess…_

“W-how much do you usually sleep?” San asked.

Wooyoung hummed in thought. “Six… four hours on a bad day. Night. Same thing. Usually six.”

“Wooyoung! You’re a student! You need to sleep more than that so you can actually study.”

“Yes, mom.”

“Wooyoung.”

“San.”

“Not funny. I’m serious.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m still alive, aren’t I?”

“That’s besides the point.”

“Are you gonna scold me about my sleep schedule _this_ early in the morning? C’mon, San, don’t nag so much. You’re only supposed to do that when you’re teaching me.”

San huffed and pulled his knees to his chest. “I don’t nag.”

“Yes, you do.”

“I don’t!”

“You do! And not just me, I know you nag Mingi and that other beanpole you hang around with!”

“His name is Yunho, and I nag people because I care about them!” San retaliated.

Wooyoung tilted his head. San watched his lip curl into his cheek. “So you admit it.”

“Admit what?” _That I care about you?_

“That you’re a nag.”

“Whatever.” _Phew. That was a close call._

Wooyoung chuckled.

“So,” San started, trying to change the subject so Wooyoung wouldn't be able to prove himself right. “What do you usually do on Saturday mornings?”

Wooyoung squinted his eyes at San. His lips came to a pout as he thought. “Depends,” he said.

“On?”

“Where I wake up.”

San choked. “What’s _that_ supposed to mean!?”

“Well, if I had to crash at a friend’s house,” Wooyoung gestured vaguely towards San, and then the bedroom. “Then I wait ‘til they wake up, say goodbye, and then dip.”

“Oh. _Oh._ Okay. O-okay, good. I thought—You know what? I’m not gonna finish that sentence.”

“Appreciate it,” Wooyoung nodded. He definitely knew what San was initially thinking.

San stretched his legs forward. “You hungry?”

“Yeah, I could eat. But you have to cook for me.” Wooyoung showed his bandaged palm.

San was about to say _‘Only if you tell me how you cut your hand,’_ but thought better of it, and kept his mouth shut. Instead, he hummed an affirmative and stood up from the bed. 

He slowly opened his door and stuck his head out. San didn’t know if anyone was home right now. His parents usually have work to do, but just have slower mornings. Sometimes, it's out of the house stuff, sometimes he’ll find them both in the study on the first floor. He never knows until he goes into the kitchen. San felt hands on his shoulders and jumped.

“What are we waiting for? I’m hungry,” Wooyoung grumbled.

“O-oh, nothing, nothing. We can go eat,” San said over his shoulder. He opened the door wide and went downstairs. Wooyoung released him at the bottom of the stairs. A peek into the study told San that he may be home alone. The dark kitchen confirmed that his parents were out of the house. A weight lifted from his shoulders, but something drooped in his chest. San immediately got to work on the coffee, and then quickly filled the rice-cooker with everything he needed. He set it to cook and leaned against the corner of the countertop with a sigh.

“Why do you seem so depressed?” Wooyoung asked. He mirrored San’s posture, leaning against the island in the middle of the kitchen.

“I’m not. I’m… just tired.” San truthfully didn’t know how he felt.

“Probably ‘cause you woke up at the ass-crack of dawn.”

“Probably,” San agreed.

Wooyoung didn’t say anything else, he just stared at San, his head tilting slightly as it does when he’s thinking. San checked on the coffee to avoid Wooyoung’s scrutiny, which was far too unnerving for the morning. He poured two cups without asking if Wooyoung wanted any. He handed Wooyoung a steaming cup, who accepted it, set it down, and then reached out to fix San’s hair. 

“You look like you’re growing bean sprouts,” Wooyoung smiled softly. His fingers were gentle in San’s hair. They dragged down behind his ear and rested on the side of his neck. Wooyoung was staring at him again. San wanted to hide from his gaze, but the hand on his neck stilled him. In the next moment, Wooyoung was pressing their lips together, and in the one after that, he was pulling away, standing there like nothing had happened. San felt like he had missed it, yet he was the one who had been kissed. Wooyoung’s eyes danced all over San’s face, this he noticed. Was he looking for any red flags? Any sirens going off behind the scenes? Luckily, there was nothing going on in San’s head except for _ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygod._

Wooyoung grabbed his coffee and walked towards the table in the big open area attached to the kitchen. “I’ll have eggs with my rice,” he said. And then San heard a long slurping noise. And then a quiet swear because the coffee was _‘fucking hot’._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wrote half of this on 5 hrs of sleep, so thats where wooyoung's terrible sleep schedule comes from (what???? me?????? projecting onto my characters?????? naaahh)


	13. Wooyoung

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yall i......... sincerely died four days ago.... i got so terribly sick that i slept virtually uninterrupted for 20 hours, terrible pounding headache, fatigue, breathlessness, cant eat more than some noodles. maybe a grape or two. no coffee for 3 days. ive been suffereing, but im slowly getting better. i didnt get corona, ive been tested 2x for it and am negative, so im convinced that whoever has my voodoo doll buried me alive for shits and gigs. anyways, big chapter update at the end of the day when i was supposed to upload this morning woopsie

He didn’t plan on kissing San yesterday morning. It just happened. Just like he hadn’t planned on staying over San’s house Friday night. Things just fell into place and he rolled with it. Wooyoung did, however, plan to organize a “study session” with San at the park in the next town over. They would have to drive, of course, but Wooyoung had a car, didn’t he?

Wooyoung: _happy sunday i think i have a quiz on tuesday and i should probably study for that right??_

San: _You do have a quiz. Mingi was complaining about it on Friday. I’m finishing up with another student now at Sunrise Cafe. Want to meet me where I am?_

Wooyoung: _ugh no cafes and me trying to be studious dont work well. i was thinking we could go to the shoreline park. fresh air is good for the brain_

San: _Whatever you say. But how are we getting there?_

Wooyoung: _i can drive. i’ll pick you up in 15_

San: _Okay!_

Things were falling into place yet again.

~

Wooyoung had to peel his whiny little brother off in order to leave his house. As soon as he’d told his mother he’d be hanging out at the shoreline park for the rest of the day, Kyungmin popped up from behind the couch and screamed that he wanted to come too. Wooyoung, of course, immediately shut him down. Luckily, their mother jumped in before things could escalate beyond “indoor voices”. So, he flew upstairs, almost ripped the sliding mirror off its tracks, and dove head-first into his closet.

 _Fuck, what’s the weather gonna do today?? If it rains, everything will be fucked! I can’t do romantic rainy dates! I hate the rain!_ Wooyoung knew that the park and surrounding boardwalk was a fairly windy area, so he decided to bring a jacket. The weather gods must be blessing this end of the country because their “cold months” have been exceptionally mild for the past three years. Wooyoung doesn’t remember the last time he saw any precipitation other than rain. He pulled his trusty leather jacket from the depths of his closet, but shook his head. It was more of a “up to no good” jacket. _Not very fitting for the day,_ He replaced it on the rack. After putting together three outfits in his mind, Wooyoung fished around for his favourite denim jacket. He threw it on his bed, selected a comfortable and simple t-shirt, and was finally jumping around his room to pull up the waistband of his best jeans. There were huge holes in the knees that Wooyoung was sure weren’t _that_ big when he bought them. He shrugged again. All of his clothes have been through a lot.

Slapping his phone to check the time, Wooyoung let out a swear when he saw he was running a minute behind. _When do I ever stress about being late?_ He thought as he gracefully stumbled down the stairs.

“I’m leaving now!” Woooyoung yelled through the entryway, not even bothering to untie his shoes that his feet were jammed into before slamming the front door. He rushed to his car, backed into the street, and burned rubber into town. He only relaxed when he was parallel parked in front of Sunrise Cafe where he spied San through a big window. Wooyoung got out of his car and leaned against the passenger door, shoving his hands in his pockets to hide the anxious tremor. San hadn’t seen him yet, but Wooyoung had a near-perfect view of him at a table right behind the bar seats attached to the front window. He was smiling at a kid sitting across from him. Well, not exactly a kid. Definitely a high schooler, definitely younger than both of them. He was attractive, but his haircut made him look like a coconut. But that didn’t matter. What mattered was that San was smiling brighter than Wooyoung had ever seen, and his dimple was so prominent, and his nose was all scrunched up, and— _Oh my fucking god… did I forget my backpack?_

Wooyoung whipped around and peered into the backseat of his car, heart pounding faster than ever that day. It was there. Wooyoung was sure. _Oh, thank fuck, it’s on the floor,_ he placed his injured hand on his chest. He was glad he’d changed the bandage earlier that morning, cause he surely wouldn't have done it during the tornado he turned into upon trying to leave his house not 10 minutes ago. He took a deep breath and tried to reset. After adjusting his jacket and ruffling his hair twice, Wooyoung looked for San again. _Where’d he go?_ San was no longer at the table. Wooyoung couldn’t spot him anywhere in the café.

“You looked stressed,” a voice said on his left.

Wooyoung almost bumped his jaw into his shoulder from turning so fast while also instinctively curling in on himself.

San laughed at Wooyoung’s reaction, and then touched his arm apologetically.

“Don’t do that!” Wooyoung yelled a little too loud. His nerves (anxious-excited, definitely) were all over the place.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, you just look so serious. Relax, it’s only me,” San touched Wooyoung’s arm once more.

“I’m calm, I’m good.”

“If you say so. Anyways, how far away is this ‘shoreline park’? And I am not laying in the grass, so I hope you’ve got a massive picnic blanket in there or something.” San nodded towards Wooyoung’s car.

“I’ve got it covered, let’s just go,” Wooyoung opened the passenger door. San got in, and Wooyoung gave him a reassuring smile while closing it. He finally started the car again, and they were pulling into the street soon after.

~

“So, you’ve never been to this park?” Wooyoung stole a glance at San. _He has a nice side profile,_ he thought.

“No. Not this town, either.” San was looking out the windshield.

“Really? Your parents never took you? Never even came here with friends for a day-cation?”

“I think you made up that word, and no. Not with parents or friends. My parents just… never found the time, I guess. And I don’t have a car, so…”

“You coulda taken the bus, though. Yeosang and I come here all the time, I’m surprised he never took you.”

Wooyoung could see San shrug in his peripherals.

“It doesn’t matter now. I’m here with you, so that’s all I need.”

He bit his lip to stop a stupid grin from splitting his face. Wooyoung just nodded and hummed. After 10 more minutes of silence, save for the quiet music coming from the radio, they were pulling into the park. Wooyoung didn’t actually know it’s official name. He and his friends just called it ‘shoreline’ to make meetups simple.

“Welcome to the shoreline,” Wooyoung swept his hand through the air, indicating a huge green space bordered by a wooden walkway. It was a grassy peninsula surrounded by peddlers of all kinds, selling _almost_ anything you could think of. He looked back to find San’s jaw on the pavement.

“Is that the ocean?” San pointed towards the vast body of water just beyond the boardwalk.

“Uh, yeah.”

“I need to see it,” San stated. And before Wooyoung could respond, he was being pulled across the park towards the East Sea. It was terribly cliché, being pulled by the wrist by your crush mostly against your will, but Wooyoung was certainly not complaining. When they made it to the wooden walkway, San hopped up on the bannister and leaned forwards. He didn’t say anything for a while, just looked around at everything, taking it all in, enjoying the view. And Wooyoung looked at him, taking it all in, enjoying the view. They were both smiling, but for different reasons.

“You probably already ate, but I—” Wooyoung started.

“I didn’t. Even though I was working with Jongho for almost two hours, I only ordered coffee drinks. I hate the food at Sunrise. It’s either soggy or burnt.” San scrunched his nose. “I need to eat. Otherwise, I’m gonna be an over-caffeinated mess, and then we’re really not gonna get any studying done.” He hopped down next to Wooyoung, who led them back to the street where they could scout a meal.

“Well, alright then. I take it you don’t want to go to another café.” 

“No way. I want _kimchi jjigae._ I… looked up the restaurants here and found a place that’s good.” San showed Wooyoung his phone, exposing all the research he’d done during the car ride.

“That’s exactly the place I had in mind,” Wooyoung admitted. “And it _is_ good. C’mon,” he returned San’s phone and led them to their food destination. 

The greeting/waiting area of the restaurant was small; the pair had to stand in a corner while the table they requested was being cleared. San stood with his back to the wall, his beige tote bag in his folded arms. Wooyoung faced San, leaning his left shoulder on the wall. Wooyoung took that time to discover San’s details. They hadn’t been this close since the kiss, but that lasted only a second, and then they were separated again by very normal, friendly, personal space.

San pouted his lips very slightly when he was silent in thought. Wooyoung liked the arch of his nose and the way his eyebrow curved downwards. He had a few, small beauty marks on his face, but there was an explosion of freckles on the side of his neck. Wooyoung started to count them, but lost track after 14. Though he seemed to be zoning out, the slight movement of San’s eyes told Wooyoung that he was intently people-watching.

They were called to be seated, their table finally ready. Wooyoung felt San’s hand slip into the crook of his elbow as they walked through the crowded restaurant to their seats.

~

“You can’t tell me you haven’t tried it before.”

“I haven’t. Because it’s gross.”

“It’s not gross!”

“It is! It’s messy and it tastes disgusting.”

“How do you know if you haven’t tried?”

“I don’t need to try it. Ranch dressing and pizza should be separated for the rest of human history.” San folded his arms.

“I can’t believe you won’t even try it. It’s delicious! You’re missing a _huge_ opportunity with this, Fruitcake. Huge.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I’ll get you to try it one day. Just you wait.”

“Keep telling yourself that, Wooyoung.”

Wooyoung propped his elbow on the table, head in hand, and felt himself smile. Mostly because he liked that he could have this fun back-and-forth with San, but also because he liked the way San said his name. He liked that San could keep up with his jabs, and also deliver a few of his own. He liked that San was so easy to talk to. He liked a lot of things about San.

The person of interest was sitting across the small square table, slouched in his chair, arms still folded. The restaurant had a garage-door front, which was open, allowing uncommonly warm, fresh air and sunlight to flood into the restaurant. San’s dark hair shined, his honey skin glowed, and the simple hoodie he wore somehow looked like the coziest thing Wooyoung had ever seen. He must have noticed Wooyoung staring because when they locked eyes, San raised an eyebrow.

“What?” San started.

“Nothing,” Wooyoung waved him off. _Caught red-handed!_

“Do I have food on my face? Did I get broth on my hoodie?” San pulled the material forward to inspect it, hand groping for a napkin.

“You’re good, San, you look fine,” Wooyoung sat all the way forward on his chair. He found San’s hand with his own, squeezed it, and then retracted. _Today is all about self-control, Wooyoung. Keep it together._ They eventually paid for their meal (Wooyoung insisted he pay because “I dragged you all the way over here so I could learn how to translate elementary English. It’s the least I could do.”) and were out on the street in no time.

They were walking in the direction of Wooyoung’s car, looking at all the little shops and stands lined up. Somewhere along the way, Wooyoung had thrown an arm around San’s shoulders. As they neared the parking lot, Wooyoung suddenly remembered why they were there in the first place. He kind of hoped San wouldn’t remember, but the Universe wasn’t working in favour of his advances anymore today.

“Good idea, you should grab your bag and we can get some work done before we get sleepy from lunch,” San said. “Where should we study?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> they are gay, your honour


	14. San

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i dont even know what kind of vibes these are......

“Where should we study?” San asked. As much as he was enjoying himself, he still had a job to do, even though both of them were constantly forgetting about it. Their studying sessions were becoming hangout sessions, not that San was complaining. A voice in the back of his head sang guilt, however, because he was supposed to be ‘working’, not fawning over his newest friend who’d been playful all afternoon. Details.

“As you guessed,” Wooyoung popped the trunk of his car, “I do have a picnic blanket with me. Well, it’s more like a big mat, but we can pretend we’re on a picnic blanket.” He handed it to San, who took it with a raised eyebrow. He opened it in front of him because he couldn’t believe he was seeing pink material. Sure enough, it was beige with big pink blobs all over. It was also small, probably six squared feet of squishy mat-covered-in-soft-fabric. His friend was full of surprises, as always.

“Don’t look at it like that. It’s my mom’s. She borrowed my car last month and was babysitting my brother and his friend. They went to a different park, and I guess she bought it for that. They had a picnic and played around. I don’t even know why I’m explaining this to you!” Wooyoung threw his hands up and shook his head.

“Alright, no need to lose it over a lounge-mat.” San was amused by Wooyoung’s obvious embarrassment. He touched Wooyoung’s shoulder to convey what, exactly?  _ I understand why you’re shy, It’s cute that you’re worked up about this kind of thing, I’m sorry that you’re so worked up over nothing, Sorry that your mom’s purchase is ruining your bad boy image? _ San didn’t know, so he eventually retracted his hand and folded up the mat as well as he could.

“Let’s just sit under that tree over there,” Wooyoung pointed and pulled San’s hood to lead the way. He didn’t check that San was following or not. He didn't have to. San smiled to himself and quickly fell into step with Wooyoung.

San threw the lounge-mat down in the shadow of a large tree. Fortunately, there were no other people camped around this particular tree. This allowed the pair to hunker down and get a solid hour of productive studying done for the quiz that Wooyoung definitely had to take in two days. And he  _ had _ to ace it. Otherwise, that grade was gonna stay down. Granted, most of this time was spent helping Wooyoung re-learn everything from the past week, but everything was back on track in Wooyoung’s brain after brushing up on the vocabulary.

Unfortunately, Wooyoung decided it was most comfortable for him to lay on his stomach after their “power-hour”. San told him not to, warned him that he could doze off (to which Wooyoung called him a nag), but lo! and behold: Wooyoung pillowed his head on his arms and eventually stopped answering San’s review questions.

_ Are we kidding? _ San looked at Wooyoung's sleeping form, stretched out on the mat like a feline.  _ I told you so, _ he thought without spitefulness. Quickly and quietly, San put away their things and placed both his own tote and Wooyoung’s backpack off to the side. And then he just sat.

And stared. He looked around the park; he looked at the people, at the puffy clouds splitting over the ocean, and the peddlers’ carts, at the street, at the tree they sat under, at the grass under them.

He listened. To the people buzzing all around, to the ocean waves shouting from afar, to the wind whispering over his shoulder, to the great big leaves shuffling together, to the soft breaths coming from his friend.

He wondered what Wooyoung was dreaming about, if anything. What exactly goes on inside that disruptive head of his? Disruptive, but pretty. It was distracting. So yeah, disruptive was the right word. San folded his legs and faced Wooyoung. His long hair was almost completely covering his handsome face.  _ That just won't do, _ San pouted before reaching out. Gently, San tucked some dark strands behind Wooyoung’s left ear. His fingers lingered, fascinated with the softness. He indulged himself and ran his hand through Wooyoung’s hair many more times, never meeting a knot nor a tangle. Since San is a sap, he glanced around for any wildflowers close by. Sadly, there was only luscious grass all around.  _ Another date, then. _ San indulged himself once more and fished his cellphone from his bag. After making sure his phone was on ‘silent’, San snapped a picture of Wooyoung sleeping soundly. 

With his phone in-hand, San laid back and stared up at the device. He set the sneaky photo as Wooyoung’s contact photo and smiled. After, San spent a while scrolling through his past text messages with Wooyoung. He noticed Wooyoung’s apathy towards grammar and punctuation, and acknowledged that this is exactly the way Wooyoung communicates with people he doesn't know. It’s how he talks to teachers, most peers, San when they first met, even the kind and patient waitress at the restaurant they just ate at. It’s very different to the way Wooyoung talks to his close friends. He’s an animated speaker when he has the mic, which is most of the time. He’s somewhat of a fearless leader.

San doesn’t know how long he’d been staring into space, but it’s past three-thirty and he’s supposed to be eating dinner with his parents in exactly two hours. It takes over 20 minutes to get back to their hometown, and probably about 10 more minutes to get to San’s house. He knows he shouldn't be calculating things like this and should instead be enjoying himself, but it was a habit. He sat up suddenly and shook Wooyoung’s shoulder.

Wooyoung responded by humming and hiding his face. San shook him again, causing Wooyoung to roll onto his side. His shirt had come up a bit, unleashing a whirlwind of  _ ‘don’t look don’t look don't look!’ _ in San’s head. He’s not even in a rush to get home, San just wanted to do something other than nap in a park. It’s not every day you get taken to the ocean-front by your insanely attractive, newly-acquainted friend. San noticed all the heads Wooyoung turned, and he’s sure Wooyoung noticed too. Wooyoung made an attempt to swat away San, but his hand ended up in San’s lap. San stared at it for a moment, checked that Wooyoung’s eyes were still closed, and took it in his own hands. It was Wooyoung’s bandaged hand, so he was careful. San rubbed Wooyoung’s knuckles on his palm very gently. Upon looking at Wooyoung’s face, he found a small smile, maybe even a sparkle of teeth.

Through a smile of his own, San asked, “You like this, don’t you?”

“Like what?” Wooyoung finally opened an eye. He looked right at San.

“This,” San indicated their joined hands.

Wooyoung only smiled brighter and nodded.

“Me too,” San smiled back. “So,” he jostled their hands. “Are you gonna sleep our day away, or can we go look at the ocean again?” 

Wooyoung didn’t reply. Instead, he rolled onto his back, retracted his hand, and stretched his arms upwards. He finally sat up, and San couldn’t stop himself from fixing Wooyoung’s hair again.

“Yeah, let’s go,” Wooyoung nodded.

They packed up in two minutes, rid themselves of the lounge-mat (that was allegedly the bane of Wooyoung’s existence) at the car, and headed for the boardwalk once more. The weather was suspiciously mild, but San took it as a good omen. The wood creaked pleasantly under his steps. A satisfying breeze hit San’s chest. He looked to Wooyoung on his left with a smile.

San dragged Wooyoung all around the boardwalk. The pair went down a stairway towards the ocean. The beach was grey and the water was a murky green colour, but the sound of the miniature swells moving along calmed his jitters. The wet crunch of the sand was reassuring. The air smelled salty; San could feel the minerals settling on his skin. The camera of San’s phone was working overtime. He’d never been to a place so photo-worthy. And to be honest, the beach wasn’t very scenic. But Wooyoung was photogenic, and San preferred candids over anything else. A few times San was almost caught, so he pretended to be taking selfies with a rock. He would hear Wooyoung scoff and then scrape his shoe through the sand. Close call.

They finally resurfaced from the beach. The air was cleaner up on the boardwalk, and it was a bit warmer, but no less breezy. San noticed that there was a short pier extending from the path they were on, so he pulled Wooyoung along to the end. There were two unoccupied benches facing the edge of the pier. San counted three men fishing over the bannister. None of them were paying much attention to their lines, though. They were much more invested in their conversation. Quick steps vibrated the wood under his feet, and San looked to his left to see a small girl with a paper airplane in hand. She was singing about something. San thinks he heard the word “freedom”.

“You would’ve liked it here as a kid,” Wooyoung said from behind San.

“Probably,” San nodded. He sat on one of the benches. It looked old, but was sturdy and held his weight without a peep. “Thank you for bringing me here. I do like it a lot.”

Wooyoung sat next to San and laid his arm along the backrest in one swift motion. “Sure thing.”

San looked at his friend.  _ Really _ looked at him. His eyes were closed and his head was tipped back, allowing the Sun to shine on his face. Ocean air moved his dark hair elegantly. The frayed bits of denim on his jacket shivered in the wind. His earrings glinted in the light. What San took a bit longer to notice was that Wooyoung’s arm—that started on the bench—was now secured around his shoulders. San relaxed into Wooyoung’s side.  _ He is a good person, _ San decided.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter kinda has a bittersweet end hmmmm. time to add some spice [the devil on my shoulder jumps happily, while the angel on my other shoulder facepalms]


	15. Wooyoung

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hehehe spice incoming, can u handle the flavour??? the shitshow only gets rowdier from here

The desire to kiss San again (and hopefully leave him speechless again) was so strong that Wooyoung had to close his eyes. He let the ocean breeze calm him down.  _ Sitting like this is enough, _ Wooyoung took a deep breath. San had thanked him, which surprised Wooyoung. It wasn’t San’s good manners that did it, no. Wooyoung felt that there was more to that expression of thanks than normal. He didn’t want to fall too deep into thought right now, though, because that almost always results in a bad mood for the rest of the day. Wooyoung couldn’t afford that. 

San surprised him even more when he said the following statement: “You don’t have to pay me for tutoring anymore, Wooyoung.”

Three seconds of panic filled Wooyoung’s brain before he managed a “Huh?”

“You don’t have to pay me anymore. I’m okay with just tutoring you as a friend.”

Wooyoung still didn’t understand. He sat upright and faced San. “Huh?” He repeated.

“Wooyoung,” San faced him. “I know I’m gonna be tutoring you for a bit longer, but since we are friends now, it… feels weird that you still pay me. I don’t know. Just think about it, okay? You don’t have to decide now, or even agree with me, but—”

“Are you sure?” Wooyoung cocked his head to the side. “I get that you would feel weird about it, but I don’t want to be stingy or anything… and I’m not your only tutee so wouldn’t that be unfair for me to be getting all this free help from someone like you?”

“Wooyoung! It’s fine. Just…. Think about it. Okay?” 

Wooyoung shut his mouth and nodded. He had about twenty reasons why this was a bad idea, why it was unfair, why he felt like he was totally a waste of time, why someone like him would ever plague the freetime of someone like Choi San, why that makes him greedy, why San would regret it, why—

“Hey, stop overthinking,” San pressed his index finger into Wooyoung’s furrowed brow.

“I wasn’t over—”

“You were. Just relax,” San adjusted himself, probably trying to get comfortable like before. He grabbed Wooyoung’s hand and wrapped his arm around his shoulders again. Wooyoung huffed, but complied. He  _ wanted _ to argue, but if San wouldn’t speak, then there was nothing he could do. San does this a lot: Right when Wooyoung is about to blow his top, San will stop responding and let him simmer down for a while. He is excruciatingly patient.  _ He chose the right job, then. _

Wooyoung focused on relaxing, and almost made it all the way, when suddenly he heard a familiar laugh from far behind.

“Is that… Yeosang?” Wooyoung muttered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter: short, insignificant, excuse for author to sprinkle in fluff before more angst is unleashed
> 
> me: [just wanted to make san poke wooyoung's forehead and more woosan bickering] she is very gorgeous to me


	16. San

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woosan: please give us some peace this time around. let us just hold hands and do regular couply things
> 
> me: hold hands? i like ya cut g

San assumed Wooyoung was joking around, trying to ruin the moment, so he was about to elbow Wooyoung in the side, but then Wooyoung whipped around on the bench. It seemed like a lot of acting for a little prank.

“That’s impossible,” Wooyoung whispered.

“Yeosang is here? Where? Let’s go say hi!” San stated. He turned around as well to look for his friend, but couldn’t spot him.  _ Is he just messing with me? _ San looked back at Wooyoung, but he was squinting at something behind them.

“Hey, wh—”

“Wait here. I’ll be right back,” Wooyoung stood up. San remained bewildered in his seat and watched Wooyoung walk back down the pier before regaining his senses and following him. He kept a noticeable distance from Wooyoung; he didn’t know why he felt the need to sneak, but something just didn’t feel right to him. San stopped where the pier started and looked to where the boardwalk meets the park greens. He spotted Wooyoung’s head of black hair approaching a group of people, four people, gathered under a big tree. One of them he recognized immediately: Kang Yeosang’s white-blonde hair stood out among the group’s dark attire.

San watched Wooyoung approach the group casually. They all nodded to him. Aside from Yeosang, the other three people were intimidating. They all looked dangerous, but it could just be their fashion. It was like that nowadays. Even the nicest people could look the meanest with the right jacket. San knows for a fact that Yeosang is a big peacemaker. Maybe these people were the same. They talked for a few minutes, and nothing happened. San just watched from afar, unsure how to feel. Concerned? His anxiety increased with every minute that Wooyoung spoke with the group. But what was he so worried about? Something just wasn’t right.

And then Wooyoung was coming back. His face was downcast, his shoulders were slumped. He didn’t meet San’s smile.

“I’m sorry to do this, but… come with me. Someone wants to meet you.” Wooyoung sounded pained. He didn’t offer his hand or reach out to San or anything like he’d been doing all day. He just turned on his heel and walked back to the mysterious group under the tree. But why would Wooyoung be so visibly upset about introducing San?

Well…

As soon as San joined the group, Yeosang’s face fell; his face was wiped of all emotion for a moment, and then—Why does Yeosang look like he’s about to cry?

“Everyone, this is San,” Wooyoung kept his hands in his pockets. “San, everyone.”

Each person in the group gave a solid nod. Yeosang still looked panicked, but none of the other three people seemed bothered. The guy right next to Yeosang wasn’t much taller than anyone, but he was lean and terribly attractive. He had a big presence. Even though the hood of his sweater was up, San could tell right away that he was a looker. He seemed like the most intimidating out of everyone, as well. And he had this weird look on his face, like he was trying to hold down laughter. The other people, two girls (one with a buzzed head and the other with a super-short choppy bob), were also looking at San. Their gazes were less intimidating, but not exactly friendly. The girl with the buzzcut was wearing dark denim and chains head-to-toe. The other girl was dressed in Japanese  _ yanki _ fashion. Their arms were linked, and San couldn’t help but noting that opposites attract.

“So  _ you’re _ Choi San?” The tall(er) guy asked. His white teeth flashed with every syllable. “Friend of our Wooyoung and our Yeosang.” He put his arm around Yeosang as he said his name. Yeosang leaned into the tall guy, though it looked like it pained him to do so. Okay, so San knew that Yeosang and Wooyoung are close friends. And he knows that Wooyoung does some suspicious stuff. He doesn't know exactly what  _ yet, _ but he’s working on that. Therefore, Wooyoung knows some suspicious people.  _ And _ San is good at math. So by the transitive property, Yeosang also knows these people and probably hangs out with them as well. It’s just that San is forcibly acknowledging this, so it’s a lot to take in. On top of all that, San hasn’t had to properly introduce himself to a new group of people in a while, thanks to growing up in a small town. He’s really doing The Most today. 

“Uhm, yes?” San finally responded to Tall Guy. He hoped he could put a name to a face soon.

“Pleasure,” Tall Guy gave him a crooked smile. “Park Seonghwa,” he pointed to himself, and then to the girls. “Lee, Jae-Jae.”

_ Park Seonghwa? Seonghwa? Where have I heard that name before? _ San thought as he looked from Seonghwa to Wooyoung. He’s sure he heard the name from Wooyoung before…  _ Oh. It’s him. _

San clearly remembers Wooyoung calling him “that fucking Park Seonghwa motherfucker” and a “jackass”, which means this interaction has potential to go horribly wrong.

“Please do tell how you met our Wooyoung because he has been very tight-lipped about you. Just couldn’t manage to get it out of him,” Seonghwa’s jaw twitched.

San looked to Wooyoung on his left, who was very interested in one of the girls’ boots. He decided that the truth couldn’t do anything wrong, right? That’s what Wooyoung says, anyways.

“I, uh, tutor him? Just a little help before we graduate, right?” San elbowed Wooyoung for aid, but only got a nod.

“Right, of course,” Seonghwa kept on smiling. “We wouldn’t want our graduation delayed, now would we? After all, Wooyoung has a job to do, and a promise to keep.”

“O-oh...kay?” San wasn’t sure what Seonghwa was hinting at. He looked to Yeosang for clarification, but he very discreetly shook his head.  _ Do not ask. _

Seonghwa piled on. “What, Wooyoung hasn’t mentioned it yet? I thought you two were friends?”

“Cut it out,” Yeosang shouldered Seonghwa. Apparently he was allowed to do that because Seonghwa only pat his head in return. The two girls were now fully focused on the rest of the group, and they kept looking between Seonghwa, Wooyoung, and San.

“No, no, our little  _ Sannie _ should know how and why Wooyoung—”

“Don’t call him that,” Wooyoung butted in.

“ _ Don’t _ interrupt me!” Seonghwa finally snapped. “ _ You _ owe  _ me! _ A month! Remember what you promised! You always claim you’re a man of your word, so don’t you dare go back on that. I don’t care that you’ll be inconvenienced, I don’t care that you ‘can’t tell your parents’, I don’t care that—!”

Wooyoung cut Seonghwa off by yanking his hoodie strings, making the hood shrink over his face. Everyone in the group collectively gasped, frozen. Wooyoung grabbed San’s hand and said one word: “Run.”

They ran.

They didn’t stop until they were at the car. The pair ripped the doors open and dove in. While San choked on air, Wooyoung threw the gear into drive and whipped out onto the street. They sped out of town before San could even put his seat-belt on. He’d apparently been babbling for a while because Wooyoung was gripping his shoulder and demanding he shut up until they entered the freeway. They sat in silence for a few minutes, absorbing the shock. San was trying to work through everything that just happened; he couldn’t believe that such a perfect day had gone so wrong. One thing was sure. He really liked Wooyoung, but in that moment, he felt like a stranger.

“Wooyoung,” San started after calming down. “I hope I’m wrong, but does that guy, or any of those people Yeosang was with have anything to do with this?” He indicated Wooyoug’s bandaged hand, knuckles white on the steering wheel.

“What? No! Why would you even think that?” Wooyoung looked over to him for a moment with a furrowed brow.

“Well, I don’t know what to think, Wooyoung! He looked dangerous, and he was saying some weird things, but Yeosang knows him, and he knows you really well! So I’m gonna ask you again. Does that guy have anything to do with why you showed up at my house on Friday night in the middle of a rainstorm?”

“That wasn’t the original question.”

San was frustrated. “Just answer the fucking question, Wooyoung!”

“No, Okay!? No! I told you I’ll have nothing to do with Park Seonghwa! I guess I can no longer say the same for Yeosang.” Wooyoung didn’t say anything more, so San didn’t press further.

The remainder of the car ride was awkward. San felt worse when he remembered he would be having a family dinner (minus his sister, who is always a calming presence). When Wooyoung dropped San off at his house, he tried to amend the tension by saying that he enjoyed their day. He closed the passenger door and waved as Wooyoung’s car rolled away, tail lights dimming with distance. And just like that, the image of Wooyoung that San created had shattered yet again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woosan on a literal date this update: im currently eating sushi. its very yummy, fl-
> 
> seongwha showing up to ruin the moment: nnnno/oo


	17. Wooyoung

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah another 2 weeks have flown by and im back with a single chapter update again haha.  
> did yall watch the anniversary concert thingy? i realy liked the wonderland stage~ would have liked to see some other title tracks (like answer or thanxx) with a spooky remix, but this begging bitch really cannot be a chooser. anyways im still in love with wooyoung. please keep this in mind before reading. uhhhh peace.

Wooyoung should have never given his cellphone number to Seonghwa. He should have never become friends with Seonghwa. He should have never even met Seonghwa. As soon as he’d dropped San off, Wooyoung got a text.

Seonghwa: _we need to talk. warehouse before midnight_

Wooyoung knew to not respond.

He sullenly entered his house. Luckily, no one was home to deal with his anxieties. He trudged up to his bedroom and fell face-down on his bed. He had hours until the meetup. But what to do until then? It was roughly a 30 minute walk. (Wooyoung would never drive there again. Not after his car’s windshield got smashed in last summer.) He closed his eyes and drifted around in a limbo of consciousness for hours.

~

Wooyoung abandoned his car at home, and set out on foot up the road. He would be going to the desolate industrial areas of land that skirted town. The walk was long enough that he was able to get way too in his head about what was to come. He had to prepare himself. He knew that he wouldn’t get away without a scratch. Wooyoung had crossed a line earlier today, and Seonghwa—or someone else—would have to put him in his place.

Thirty minutes later, Wooyoung was passing a sorry-looking wire fence that stood about eight feet high. On the other side, he could clearly see a large, vacant parking lot with several blinking lamp posts. He continued on until he found the opening: a person-sized hole in the fencing that was probably made with wire-cutters long ago. He stepped through and looked upon the abandoned furniture warehouse. It was around four stories tall, grey, murky windows, boarded-up doors, no way in. It looked that way to an outsider. Wooyoung had admittedly been there more times than he could count. He walked to the south side of the building. There was a fire escape staircase zig-zagging up the wall. On the first landing was a door. It was always unlockable. That was his way in.

He ended up in the receiving area of the warehouse. The overhead lights did a terrible job at illuminating the room, but he could see wooden pallets and boxes of all shapes and sizes strewn around the area. Sitting on a platform of boxes were two people in conversation. One was a woman. Her long, dark hair glinted in the dim light. It came down to her waist, and as she flicked it over her shoulder, she finally noticed the newcomer. She whispered something to the man next to her and jumped to the ground.

“You’re early,” the woman stated. She was very tall, even without her high-heeled boots. She looked down on Wooyoung as she placed her hands on her hips.

“I only got a deadline. Not my fault the party didn’t get started before I arrived,” Wooyoung replied.

She narrowed her smokey eyes at Wooyoung. The corner of her mouth curled. “As snarky as ever, Jung Wooyoung. Good to know nothing’s changed. You need to visit more often. I almost started to miss it. You’re in for a treat tonight.” She turned on her toes and waved for Wooyoung to follow. The man seated on the boxes stayed put. Wooyoung heard a lighter spark.

They walked along a wall lined with industrial-sized shelves. The inside of the warehouse always reminded Wooyoung of a run-down, apocalyptic Ikea warehouse. They eventually came to a hallway of offices. The woman escorted Wooyoung to the end. He knew exactly where he was going. Second-to-last door on the right. He’d been there once before. His gut did a terrible flip as he prepared for the worst. The door was opened for him by the woman. She followed him in, closed the door, and moved off to the side. A much larger man came out from the shadows of the dimly-lit room and stood in front of the door. There were two more (less beefy but still intimidating) men seated on a leather sofa, both smoking. Oh yes, the worst was very much in store for Wooyoung. 

The room was spacious. There was an overly-ornate wooden desk in one corner. There were some couches, chairs, and other expensive-looking pieces of furniture all around. All of it was probably pillaged from deep within the factory. From out of the shadows came a familiar face. Park Seonghwa immediately scowled.

“You’re getting bolder every time I see you,” Seonghwa started. 

Wooyoung kept his mouth closed, lest someone punch it.

He got punched anyways. Knuckles connected with Wooyoung’s right cheek. Pain flared up in his face, but he didn’t let the groan escape his mouth. He managed to keep his footing. He kept his sight on Seonghwa, who was shrugging off his blazer and throwing it to the woman in the corner.

“How dare you pull that shit. You’re a little bastard, you know that?” Seonghwa rolled his wrists. “You think you can get away with anything just because we have history? It doesn’t fucking work like that when you _abandon_ people, Wooyoung!” Another hit, this time from Seonghwa’s stronger arm. Wooyoung braced himself and set his jaw. It was the right call because this punch sent him reeling; his body jerked to the side, but he didn’t fall. Wooyoung took a step back, but met a body. He knew it was one of the men from the couch. He didn’t step away. Hands restrained his arms, and then he was stuck. 

Seonghwa continued. His words were accompanied by a few knees to the gut. “I want you to think about the last time you were here, in this room. And then I want you to think about the last time you willingly came to me for anything—be it company or advice or whatever! The last time you talked to me, you looked like you wanted to throw up!”

Wooyoung’s head slumped as pain overwhelmed him. Seonghwa grabbed the hair at the back of his head and forced his face upwards. “I’ve never said no to you. I’ve always looked out for you. I’ve offered you a future. And now that I’ve asked to be rightfully repaid for something, I don’t even exist to you!” One more punch ought to do it. Maybe two.

This time, knuckles came across his mouth, causing his whole head to turn. And then one more directly to his right eyebrow.

"Oh, dear, you're making such a mess. Now, who's gonna clean all this up? Who's gonna responsible for all this, hmm?"

Wooyoung slouched forward again. He felt so lifeless; there was so much pain, and yet he could feel nothing. The hands holding him up released him. Wooyoung fell to his knees. Darkness crept into his vision, and before he collapsed, he heard someone say, “Clean this mess up.”

~

Wooyoung awoke in a room he did not recognize. He immediately noticed that he was laid on his back on a long sofa. The room was well-lit. The ceiling was white. Wooyoung turned his head to the side and looked around the room. It was smaller than the one previously, and based on its contents, its purpose was obvious. He was in a first-aid room. _That’s new,_ Wooyoung thought. He supposed it made sense, though, since Seonghwa had been recruiting overtime; numbers were increasing, and so were the fights everyone got into. Sitting up slowly (the pain in his abdomen persisted), Wooyoung saw a low table with a bunch of supplies stuffed into bins. He didn’t know why he was in that room, but he decided a few pain pills could only help.

There were countless boxes of bandages, gauze, rubbing alcohol, nylon thread, and lots of different sized scissors and tweezers. But Wooyoung couldn't find any pill bottles. Just as he started to rummage through a bin under the table, he heard a door open behind him. He stood up quickly, flinched as his body cried out in pain, and looked over his shoulder.

In the doorway was a young man he’d never seen before. He put his hands up calmly. “My name is Kim Hongjoong. I’m here to clean you up.”

About ten minutes later, Wooyoung’s busted lip was clean, his bloody forehead was covered with butterfly bandages, and he was holding an ice-pack to the side of his face. Hongjoong told him that he had bruises extending from his temple to his mouth. He didn’t know who this guy was, but Wooyoung guessed that he was “part of the crew” because he talked about Seonghwa like he was his favourite coworker.

“So when did you get reeled in to all of this?” Wooyoung asked, trying to distract himself from the cold seeping into his face.

“Several months ago. I’m from the northwest side of the country, actually. Came down here for a freelance job, got a little distracted, and here I am.” Hongjoong finished reorganizing the first-aid supplies and sat on the couch next to Wooyoung.

“Freelance?”

“Photography.”

“Of course.”

“It doesn’t matter now,” Hongjoong shrugged. “What’d _you_ do to end up looking like this?”

“Like, specifically…? Or in general? Apparently there’s a lot more to it than a little prank.”

“But it wasn’t a prank, right?”

“Something tells me you already know what I did,” Wooyoung glared at Hongjoong. _Why’s he getting in my business?_

“Maybe I do,” Hongjoong shrugged. And then he lowered his voice, “Maybe I hate hearing Park Seonghwa complain like everyone else.” Back to normal volume. “But we have to appreciate what he does for his crew.”

Wooyoung scoffed. “Yeah, such good he does.”

“I’ve heard a lot about you, Jung Wooyoung, from a lot of different people. I know the shit you and your little friends stir up on a regular basis. I know that you’re supposed to be checking in and you haven’t been. And I know for a fact that he’s saved your ass more times that you or I can count. Now, we both know he’s not the top dog around here normally, but since his brother’s on a… business trip, we’ll call it… he has to look out for more people than just you and your peanut gallery. So get over yourself.”

“So he’s told you, then.” Wooyoung looked forward.

“Of course he has. Everyone knows. It’s not a big bad secret, or anything. Everyone’s excited about it except for you.”

The ice pack seemed to freeze up again.

“What’s so exciting about being in debt to a gang?” Wooyoung whispered.

“Don’t think of it like that, Wooyoung.” Hongjoong demanded.

It felt weird for a total stranger to be using Wooyoung’s name so casually like that, addressing him like they’d known each other their whole lives. He didn’t even know how old Hongjoong was. Perhaps Seonghwa’s age, but he seemed so mature and far more patient than Seonghwa.

“He was my friend, you know? He was my favourite person. I looked up to him. He was like the older brother I missed out on having.” Wooyoung felt exhaustion taking over. He sunk into the couch.

“Is it because you two are so close that this feels… extra-nefarious?”

Wooyoung sighed. “This all started at school, actually. Last year. My second year. His last. He found me on the roof.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well i cannot say im sorry for doing that to wooyoung cause...,, [tucks hair behind ear] im not.  
> confused? fear not. backstory chapters are incoming! stay tuned and check back in two weeks for more spice. happy halloween and dont forget to vote!


	18. Wooyoung

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alexa play the jaws theme song

“On the first day of every month, my friend and I would sneak up to the roof during lunch and hang out there for the whole break.” Wooyoung fiddled with the ice-pack. It was just cold water now. Quite useless.

He doesn’t think he ever told anyone the details of his relationship with Park Seonghwa. Not that it ended up mattering anyways. They were barely on speaking terms nowadays. Wooyoung had conditioned himself to dislike Seonghwa’s presence.

But it hadn’t always been that way...

It was the first day of April. The second year of high school would surely hold many more promising adventures. Lunch break was long, thus giving Wooyoung and Yeosang plenty of time to figure out how to get onto the roof of the tallest school building. The alarm on the door was so old that a few whacks with a stray wrench permanently put it out of use. The roof was flat, spacious, and hidden from view. So they made it a habit. A ritual, almost. They would meet at the stairwell, ascend, and break free from academia for a little while.

Their little utopia remained untouched for a few months until it was infiltrated. It was June. Summer warmth had finally started to settle on the town. Wooyoung’s sleeves were rolled up. Yeosang’s collar was open, his tie long gone. They shared their lunches and bickered about something Wooyoung couldn’t remember the next day. As Yeosang was taunting Wooyoung with a bell pepper (which he deeply hates) the roof door creaked loudly, and three male students walked out. One had a shaved head and a square jaw. The other had a badly bleached bowl-cut that resembled a sun-weathered coconut. The guy in the middle was very obviously the leader, if you could even call the group something that _needed_ a leader. He was handsome, even from a distance. His hair was dark, most of it pushed to one side. With his hands in his pockets he approached Wooyoung and Yeosang, who were seated on a power box. 

“The door was unlocked before we got here,” Wooyoung started.

“I’m not here to reprimand you, kid,” the guy in the middle said.

“Then what?” Yeosang added. He’s a lot more tame nowadays.

“We’re friendly, I promise,” continued the stranger. “Put the bell pepper down and we’ll talk.”

“No thanks,” Wooyoung folded his arms and adjusted the rest of his posture to show that he would stay sitting for a while longer.

“Hey, punk, watch your mouth,” the skin-head growled with a pointed finger.

“Yeah, don’t you know who you’re talking to?” The blonde adjusted his blazer.

Wooyoung and Yeosang shared a look. 

“Don’t care,” Yeosang shrugged. 

The guy in the middle smirked, though with his flash of teeth, it would be considered a snarl by any prey.

“Park Seonghwa. Third year.” The speaker pointed to himself. “Oh Hyuk, Im Joonkyung,” he gestured to the others. His hands returned to their pockets.

“Jung Wooyoung, Kang Yeosang.” Wooyoung threw an arm around his friend’s shoulders. “You’re interrupting our lunch break.”

Seonghwa’s lip curled. “Oh, we’re not leaving. Just letting you know that you two aren’t the only ones up here. That’ll be all.” He saluted with a delicate hand and turned on his heel. The trio moved to the other side of the roof far out of earshot.

“Whattaya think, Yeosang? Worth it breaking those teeth of his?” Wooyoung tipped his head in thought.

Yeosang scoffed. “Honestly, Wooyoung. Not everything has to start with a fight. You can just, like, befriend people like the rest of us.”

Wooyoung hummed in thought.

The semester ended in a month and a half. The pair went to the roof once more (as per ritual) in July before the mid-year break. Seonghwa and his goonies, whose names Wooyoung naturally forgot, were already up there. They had peace for about thirty minutes, until Seonghwa approached them again, this time alone. He started off by stating his personal value, insisting they become friends, and exchanging numbers with the two second-years. They complied, mostly out of curiosity.

Wooyoung didn’t expect to hear from Seonghwa much, and certainly not any time soon. But the semester ended and Wooyoung had barely managed to get a day of rest during the break before being invited to a handful of hangouts with Park Seonghwa, an apparently popular third year. Yeosang got the same invites (they were the exact same texts, actually. Wooyoung and Yeosang compared their phones side-by-side as soon as they saw each other).

And then the second semester started, and Seonghwa made an appearance nearly every day, be it joining Wooyoung and Yeosang (and eventually other friends like Song Mingi, Seo Changbin, and Jung Yunho once before he was so anxious they’d get in trouble that he sprinted back downstairs and to his homeroom) for lunch, or walking home with either of them. 

The annual heat faded, the days became crisp, and sunlight was precious. Months passed, and Seonghwa became a close friend.

Very close.

Wooyoung looked up to Seonghwa. He was a cool third-year, he was popular, handsome, and he was someone who looked out for his friends. (He still is, but Wooyoung doesn’t want to give him any compliments for the time being.) He was easy to talk to, fun, reliable, loyal, everything that a good person should be. How could Wooyoung ever hate him?

It didn’t exactly feel like Seonghwa was intruding, but as Wooyoung looks back on it, he did stick himself in between Wooyoung and Yeosang a lot. Frequently physically. Wooyoung can’t think of any excuse other than he was trying to steal one away from the other.

Things clicked quickly. Seonghwa wanted both Wooyoung and Yeosang to “join” him. But he certainly wanted Yeosang in a slightly different way. 

Wooyoung told Hongjoong all these things; it felt good to do so. It wasn’t often that he got to sort out his jumbled thoughts like this.

“But,” Hongjoong asked. “Why do you dislike him so much? Not to invalidate your feelings, but this doesn’t really seem like precedent for, uh, hating him.”

“Not, it doesn’t, but I’m not done,” Wooyoung puffed out his lips.

Around the new year, things were stagnant with Seonghwa. It was barely noticeable, but he was disappearing. Then he’d come back like it was nothing. His hands were often bandaged, fingers wrapped. He showed up one day with a cut brow, but everyone was leery about asking. He graduated at the end of winter, as everyone does, but he wasn’t _gone_ gone. He’d still fetch Wooyoung and Yeosang from school. He’d treat them to snacks. He started inviting the pair to hangouts in some abandoned building on the outskirts of town. It was fun. Seonghwa was like an ultra-cool older brother. Wooyoung didn’t know him as well as he thought, though. He always reserved details, never over-shared, and disliked small talk. Wooyoung picked up these personality traits as things went downhill.

And things did go downhill. Wooyoung had of course been causing trouble on his own for a while, but the addition of Yeosang and then Seonghwa and then his friends on top of that was a recipe for chaos. Wooyoung went from being a prankster to a hooligan to a delinquent. It was summer. This is what Hongjoong had been asking about. Wooyoung’s debt.

No one knew Seonghwa’s “family business” was a gang until after the fact. Seonghwa just kept bugging Wooyoung to join him. (Wooyoung would laugh it off and say, “I’m already here, bro”.)

The night was young. Wooyoung was solo with Seonghwa as they met up with several of Seonghwa’s ‘friends from the next town over’. Things were going normal as they do with Seonghwa. They were grouped outside of a convenience store after buying a handful of things. Basically, the owner came outside for a smoke, saw Wooyoung, pegged him as a thief from several weeks ago, and pulled out a knife. Seonghwa intervened, though it took a few punches from several people to disarm the old geezer. The group dispersed after that, not wanting to attract any more attention. Seonghwa pulled Wooyoung away and they started down the street, kicking a rock along the way.

“Y’know that’s like the sixth time I’ve had to save you from a beating,” Seonghwa pointed out.

“You didn’t _save_ me. And I didn’t ask you to. I coulda handled it,” Wooyoung replied.

“Well, I have in the past. Remember that huge prick with the tiger tattoos? He totally would have broken your jaw if I came a second later.”

“Whatever.”

“It’s not whatever, Wooyoung!” Seonghwa snapped.

Wooyoung looked at him in surprise. “Chill out, I never expected you to do any of that.”

Seonghwa kept on raging. “That’s besides the point.”

“Then what _is_ the point?” Wooyoung stopped walking.

“The point is you owe me!”

“What the hell are you talking about? I don’t owe you anything! Friends don’t owe each other like that.”

“Shut up!” Seonghwa shoved him.

“Why are you acting like this!? What the fuck is happening to you!?” Wooyoung shoved back.

“Taking initiative.”

Wooyoung threw his hands up in frustration. “Can you cut the cryptic talk? Y’know what? I’m gone. Get back to me when you’re done acting like a pissy dictator.”

Seonghwa grabbed Wooyoung’s wrist, but quick reflexes kicked in, and Wooyoung smacked Seonghwa in the face. “I said I’m gone.” He continued walking. His hand burned.

“You owe me a month! A fucking month!” Seonghwa yelled behind him.

Wooyoung would learn what that meant in the upcoming days. Seonghwa wouldn’t let him forget it, nor would he leave him alone. It was no longer fun for Wooyoung. He couldn’t explain it to Yeosang. His bad habits got worse. His grades dropped ever so slightly. He was seeing more of his older brother and father. A lot more.

~

“So…” Hongjoong thought for a moment. “Seonghwa thinks you owe him because he kept you out of trouble? And you think that’s ridiculous because this ultimately falsified the foundations of your friendship. And you can’t talk to anyone about it because it’s… complicated. And you can’t talk to Yeosang because he’s… close to Seonghwa.”

“Basically,” Wooyoung shrugged. He felt better after getting that all out. It was exceptionally easy to overshare with a total stranger. He didn’t think he had the courage to retell this story to anyone, though. Even to the people who probably deserve to hear it.

Hongjoong escorted Wooyoung out of the building; they encountered no one on their way out. Wooyoung pulled out his phone to check the time, but it was dead. He grumbled about his long walk home. Hongjoong heard him and graciously offered to drop him off. Wooyoung was too tired to reject the offer. A thirty minute walk turned into a seven minute drive. He was dropped off a block from his home. He mustered the strength to trudge to his house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am living for the Ateez Fever Road show and its so funny to watch an episode and come back to it 2 minutes later to find it deleted lmao kkt is really on top of it this year with the capitalist bs


	19. Wooyoung

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi hello good morning i am actually posting when i'm scheduled to! the ball is finally rolling on this fic and im pleased with how things are going. enjoy this 2 chapter chunk!

It was past 3:00AM when Wooyoung locked the front door of his house with the quietest motions he could muster. He was exhausted. His body hurt everywhere. He looked like he’d been—well—jumped. No one else should be awake, but just to be sure, Wooyoung toed off his shoes and crept upstairs to his bedroom. He hadn’t seen any of his family members in almost 24 hours. His cellphone had died some time during the night, but Wooyoung couldn’t be bothered to plug in the charger. He stripped, put on pajama pants, and huddled under his bedcovers, though his aching abdomen screamed in protest to his posture. He didn’t plan on going to school, so he didn’t care about setting any alarms. Wooyoung would be dead to the world for at least a day.

Three hours later when mom came knocking with a wakeup call, Wooyoung simply said, “I’m not going today. I feel sick.”

She stood in the doorway, handle still in her fist. Wooyoung didn’t pick his head up, lest she see the damage from the night before.

After one more suspicious moment of silence, she finally said, “Fine. But I expect someone to be dropping off your schoolwork this afternoon, and I want it done tonight. No going out, and you’ll be in bed at a reasonable hour.”

“Yes, mom. Thank you,” Wooyoung turned over and slept until noon.

~

Wooyoung was nervous to meet his reflection. He remembered that Hongjoong said he had a big bruise on the side of his face. He could feel his split lip, and the butterfly bandages on his brow needed to be replaced. And he needed to shower. He was a mess.

With a sigh, Wooyoung kicked his bedcovers off and headed to the bathroom. It was a Monday, which meant he had the house to himself until late-afternoon. Luckily, fetching the little bro was mom’s duty today.

The bathroom door was already open. He breathed and flicked on the light.

“Fuck,” Wooyoung whispered. He looked dreadful. 

The bruise on the right side of his face followed his brow bone, around the eye socket, to the cheekbone, and faded downwards. His lip wasn’t swollen, but there was definitely a cut there. A purple rose-like shape bloomed on the left side of his jaw. He gently poked everything, pleased to find no broken bones. There were also three circular bruises on his stomach, but those would definitely be gone by tomorrow. The major cuts and bruises wouldn’t go away in a day, no. This would be a week-long problem. _Maybe I should take tomorrow off, too,_ Wooyoung considered. The cut on his left hand was healing nicely, though. Crazy what had happened in the span of a few days. He could probably go without bandages for the rest of the day. He stepped into the shower and mulled it all over as hot water poured over his body.

Being clean helped clear Wooyoung’s head momentarily. He shuffled around his house for a few hours, drifting from the TV to the fridge and back again. It was near the time for someone to come home; as he reached for his phone in his pocket, Wooyoung remembered it was still dead on his desk. With a groan he ascended the stairs once more. He jammed the charger into the port and waited. When the phone’s screen finally lit up, all the notifications flooded in. He had at least 50 text messages, seven missed calls, and even two DMs from Mingi, who was probably trying to cover all the bases to get into contact with him. 

They were mostly messages of concern, everyone wondering (jokingly) if Wooyoung had died, and then not jokingly at all when he didn’t even read the messages.

“I should probably tell them I’m still alive,” Wooyoung mused aloud. He drafted a message and sent it to everyone asking about his funeral.

He got to San’s message box. There was more than Wooyoung expected. There were texts from yesterday and today.

San: _Thank you again for taking me out today. I had a lot of fun, and I hope you did as well!_

San: _Even though what you did to your friend was kind of crazy_

San: _and you made it seem like he actually wanted to kill you_

San: _Goodnight and see you tomorrow!_

San: _[image]_

The picture was a selfie showing only half of his face. It looked like he was laying in bed. Wooyoung remembers how comfy and spacious that bed is. The texts from San sent earlier today seemed different. Wooyoung could tell he was genuinely worried. 

San: _Are you not at school today? Haven’t seen you at all :(_

San: _Mingi says you’re not in class? Are you okay?_

San: _Yeosang says you’re not responding to anyone R U OKAY???_

San: _JUNG WOOYOUNG_

San: _if you’re in trouble please let me know. i can help._

San: _please call me PLEASE_

He read today’s messages twice. _Fuck, he probably does think I’m dead, or worse,_ Wooyoung thought. San was already suspicious of Wooyoung’s relation to Seonghwa. If San kept on questioning Wooyoung yesterday, he definitely would have gotten all the tea. Wooyoung immediately called San, not caring if he was in class.

“Wooyoung!” San picked up the call after one buzz of the dial tone.

“Hi,” Wooyoung said casually.

“Oh my god, you’re okay, I was so worried! We were all so worried! We tried everything, we even tracked your location, but it wasn’t available so of course I thought the worst and we’re all stuck here at school so no one was able to even get to your house or call anyone else to figure—”

“San! Hey! Choi San! Stop talking! I’m fine, okay? I’m at home. I… uh, felt sick this morning so I didn’t come to school. And I guess my phone didn’t charge, so it died and I didn’t look at it until now.”

“You’re okay, though, right? Nothing bad? You’re okay?”

“Yes, San, I’m okay. A little stomach ache isn’t gonna have me down for the count,” Wooyoung lied. “I’m okay.”

San gave a big sigh. “Okay. Okay, that’s good. As long as you’re okay, I’m good. Sorry, I was just… so worried. Maybe this is just a one-day thing. Were you feeling bad last night?”

“Yes,” Wooyoung said his first truth. He felt terrible last night. And then he got beat up.

“Well, if there’s anything I can do, let me know! We’re all here to help, okay? Wh—Mingi, shut _up._ What? Quiz? Oh! That’s right! Mingi says you have an English quiz tomorrow. Remember, we were studying over the weekend? Yeah, that’s tomorrow, so you better be there for it.”

Wooyoung nodded along, slumping in his chair from endearment. _Kinda cute when he nags._

“Hey, I gotta go, but I _will_ see you tomorrow, okay?”

Wooyoung hummed.

“Bye!”

The call ended. And just like that, a grave feeling crept into Wooyoung’s chest that caused him to crawl back in bed and hide until dinner. While in bed, Wooyoung texted his friend, Changbin, asking for the day’s assignments since they were in the same class. Luckily, Wooyoung didn’t miss much today, and there was actually no homework other than some math that he could totally do on his own. Changbin reminded him of the English quiz tomorrow. At the end of the call, Changbin said, “It doesn’t matter how you feel tomorrow. You better take this stupid quiz or else.”

Wooyoung didn’t know exactly what his friend meant by ‘or else’, but he didn’t want to push on that. He decided that even if he wasn’t fit to go to school for the whole day tomorrow, he would at least make an appearance for the quiz.

~

Wooyoung had never been beat this bad in the face before, so he didn’t know how to show up in the kitchen and not cause a scene with his injuries. Luckily, his mother was looking out for him; she brought his dinner to his room on a tray while he pretended to be asleep. After hearing his door close, Wooyoung slipped out of bed and moved to his desk. He didn’t realize how hungry he was until he smelled the food, causing his stomach to rumble. It was his favourite; he guessed his mother was _really_ looking out for him today. Perhaps she picked up on something, but Wooyoung was sure he hadn’t revealed anything yet. His mom even added a steaming cup of ramyeon. He finished it all in under ten minutes. 

It was nearly ten o’clock when Wooyoung felt inspired to get out of bed again. He managed to complete the math assignments that Changbin told him about. He shoved the papers into his backpack and slipped back into bed. In the morning, Wooyoung would decide if he wanted to face the ridicule of his peers, and feed the ‘locker room talk’ about him being a gangster.

~

Wooyoung opened his eyes to his mother knocking on his already opened bedroom door. He immediately felt off today. There was just something about the way his body felt. His head felt so heavy he could barely lift it from his pillow. His limbs felt useless and the bruises all over his body pulsed with pain. Today felt worse than yesterday. It was a scam. _Isn’t every day of healing supposed to be a little better?_ Wooyoung thought. _So why do I feel the worst today?_

“I think I have a fever, Mom. It’s best for me to stay home one more day so I don’t infect my classmates. I promise I’ll be okay tomorrow. Just give me one more day.” Wooyoung again did not lift his head from his pillow, but he had a feeling that his mother knew why. He couldn’t see her reaction to his words, but she agreed and softly closed his door.

Wooyoung let out a big sigh and threw the bedcovers off. He retrieved his cellphone (now fully charged because he abandoned it for hours on the charger this time) and checked for any missed notifications. As he was checking everything, Wooyoung remembered his call with his friend, Seo Changbin yesterday. _You better take that quiz, or else!_ Changbin’s voice rang through Wooyoung’s head. And then he remembered San’s words from yesterday as well: _I_ will _see you tomorrow, okay?_ Wooyoung felt bad, but he couldn’t go to school looking like… well, he didn’t know what he looked like today, but he knew it couldn’t be anything good.

This was the plan: Wooyoung’s English class was the second right after lunch. So Wooyoung would go to school, slip into class, take the stupid English quiz, and then leave. It was a foolproof plan with endless opportunities for things to go terribly wrong.

Noon approached. Time seemed to move quickly, but also sluggishly as Wooyoung waited to leave. He was alone in the house again. It was very fortunate that his father hadn’t seen him in three days, because he would definitely ask questions (unlike his mother who was being very uninvolved this time around) and get the truth out of Wooyoung one way or another. Wooyoung threw on his school uniform and made sure he was all put together before leaving. It wasn’t like him to worry about the dress-code, but it was more strict when it came to taking exams, quizzes included. His hair was long enough to hide most of the damage, but he was still badly bruised around his mouth.

He drove to school, and luckily found a parking spot less than 50 steps from the school building. Wooyoung passed through the empty hallways silently, foregoing his locker since he would definitely be there tomorrow, no matter what. He timed it perfectly so that he had about two minutes before class started. Then, the quiz would be handed out, he would take the quiz, ace it (of course), and then leave as soon as classes switched. Wooyoung entered through the door at the back of the room and slipped into his seat without catching any eyes. He knew his face was in a state today, the cuts and bruises turning a nasty yellowy-purple colour. He put only one butterfly bandage on his cut forehead. Too many bandages invited too many eyes. And then questions would follow. Wooyoung did not want to answer any questions today. Wooyoung’s closest friends in the class, Mingi and Changbin, noticed him slip in immediately. Changbin was seated in the front row, though, so he couldn’t approach Wooyoung because the bell was about to ring. Mingi, however, hissed questions nonstop for a full minute as Wooyoung fished for a pen in his backpack.

“I’ll tell you later,” Wooyoung hissed over his shoulder at Mingi who was incessantly tapping it.

The quiz was handed out and silence fell over the classroom for thirty minutes. Beforehand, the teacher announced that if everyone finished in the time limit, then the class would be released early. The only sounds to be heard were pens scratching away, and the occasional scrape of paper flipping over. It was easy work, but Wooyoung’s mind kept wandering. He finished confidently just as the teacher announced five minutes remaining. He flipped over his quiz and quietly sighed. Five minutes and he was outta there. The chair creaked as Wooyoung leaned back, stretching his legs forwards. He kept his eyes on the round clock ticking away on the wall. Believe it or not, a minute really can’t go faster than sixty seconds.

The teacher called time on the quiz. “Pencils and pens down! That’s thirty minutes! Would the last person in each row collect quizzes and bring them to me?”

The tension in the air lessened with the groan of chair feet against the floor. As the quizzes disappeared, voices could be heard, some grateful the quiz was easy, others stating they should have studied _that thing_ a bit more.

“As promised, everyone finished in thirty minutes or less, so you are free until your next class.” She put the stack of quizzes in a folder. “We’ll meet tomorrow. Dismissed.” 

Wooyoung was the first out the door. He pushed out of the external doors and practically flew across the parking lot to his car. With godspeed, the school buildings shrunk in the rearview mirrors.

When he got home, he sent the first explanatory text to Mingi.

  
Wooyoung: _do not tell San_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ateez fever road was so fun yall im glad that the boys got to do such a unique lil show like that


	20. San

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i had to re-upload this chapter just now cause the format was wonky but i think we're all good now  
> also had to add the angst tag to this fic after all, goddamit

San was mildly disappointed when only Yeosang fetched him from early-morning volleyball practice on Tuesday. He was unreasonably disappointed when he did not receive a single text from Wooyoung all morning. He was strangely disappointed when a certain someone didn’t poke the back of his head and slam his lunch tray on the table next to him. He meant to ask a classmate about Wooyoung’s wearabouts, but he only knew Mingi well enough, and he was also nowhere to be found. To say San was worried was an understatement. Firstly, Wooyoung _really_ made it seem like he would be in school today when San spoke on the phone with him yesterday. Secondly, Wooyoung’s a pretty durable person, as weird as that observation is. ‘A little stomach ache’ doesn’t seem like something to prevent him from coming to school. Thirdly, Wooyoung’s interaction with that Park Seonghwa guy _may not_ have ended at the shoreline park. While San can’t imagine what could have happened between those two in the past, Wooyoung definitely did not do anything to gain any respect from him.

This last point is what bothers San the most. It bothers him through the end of the school day, and before he knows it, San is in the library tutoring his favourite underclassman: Choi Jongho. Their session went by without a hitch.

As Jongho stood to leave, he said, “Is there something on your mind today, San? You seem a little… absent today.”

“Me? Oh, it’s nothing you need to worry about Jongho. It’s just one of my friends being… weird. That’s all,” San waved him off.

Jongho nodded. His lips twitched in thought as they always do before he’s about to say something worth listening to. “If they’re worrying you, and you’re having a hard time, just remember how smart you are. You’ll definitely come up with a solution for their problem, like always. Have a little faith in both of you.” He left the library without another word.

San was always astounded with how eloquent that kid is. He always knows the right words to say.

While packing up his things and heading home, San tried to have a little faith in Jung Wooyoung, but it was impossible to not worry about him.

~

“San!” Yeosang slammed his hands on San’s desk. Their class had just been released for lunch, but San’s mind was elsewhere.

“Did you hear me? Wooyoung is here. In his classroom. But—”

San tripped over his feet as he flew out into the hallway.

Yeosang called out to him, but San ignored it. His brain tunneled on one thought: _I’m gonna kill him!_

San appeared in the doorway like a menace. He spotted the back of Wooyoung’s stupid head. He was talking to Mingi and some other kid with dark hair and a slanted jaw. None of the other students paid him any mind as he crept up on his target. Wooyoung was motioning something with his hands before San clamped his hand on the nape of Wooyoung’s neck. San’s victim froze immediately.

“You’re coming with me,” San ordered. “Now.” He shifted his hand to the back collar of Wooyoung’s blazer (which he never wears) and tugged until Wooyoung yielded.

San dragged Wooyoung all the way outside, away from anyone who could possibly hear San blow his top. When he was sure they were _alone_ alone, San shoved Wooyoung against the brick wall and snapped.

“What the hell happened to you?! Where have you been?!” San yelled.

He finally got a proper look at Wooyoung. He was pretty beat up. There was a huge bruise around his eye, and San was certain he caught a glimpse of a bandage on his forehead when his hair moved. His jaw was bruised. His lip had obviously been busted. Wooyoung was hunched over, so San assumed he was also badly bruised elsewhere on his front.

Wooyoung straightened up. His face was calm. He’d prepared for this. “Don’t worry about it. I’m still alive, aren’t I?”

“Still alive? Alive?? That’s where the bar is right now!? Would you _stop_ saying that? What kind of answer is that!? Don’t _worry_ about it? Of course I’m gonna fucking worry about you!! What would that make me if I didn’t??”

Wooyoung’s face changed then. His brow furrowed and his nose flared and his lip curled. “I’ve already told you that you don’t have to worry about me!”

“Obviously I can’t do that!”

“Why the fuck not?! No one else does! WHY YOU!?”

San was taken aback at that. He took a physical step back. “I-I don’t _know!!!”_ A treacherous tear escaped his eye. Wooyoung’s jarring words sunk in. San quieted down as another tear fell. “I’ve… never had to look after anyone other than myself. Ever. My parents took care of me, my sister took care of me… and then I just took care of myself because I’ve only ever had myself. I don’t have anyone special who I… I’m invested in. This isn’t coming out right.”

“I… get it, San. I’m sorry. You’re independent. And it’s special when you get to give your energy to someone. But really. I’m okay.” Wooyoung reached out to him. “You don’t have to—” 

San moved out of reach. He noticed the way Wooyoung’s hands froze, and then fell. “And there you go again, comforting me.” San folded his arms. “You’re the one who’s hurting, and yet I’m the one having a breakdown. Kinda pathetic.”

“Kinda.”

“Bastard.” San tried really hard to keep a smile down. Wooyoung had an affinity for lightening the mood at his will.

“You like me, though.”

“Kinda.”

Wooyoung chuckled. San let out a strange laugh, too. His head was hurting. A lot had built up over the past few days. Perhaps this was the solution Jongho had mentioned yesterday. Wooyoung leaned back against the brick and sighed.

“Sorry for being rough,” San kicked the ground. “I didn’t know you were…” he motioned with his hand. “Like this.”

“Don’t w—I mean, uh, I forgive you? Haha take it easy there, San, I’m fragile right now.”

If Wooyoung said to not worry once more, he was gonna get punched. Again. By San this time.

San put his fist down. He grabbed Wooyoung’s hand to distract himself, inspecting the cut on his palm after noticing no bandages. It was healing well, but it would leave an impressive scar. San guessed Wooyoung didn’t care about it healing ‘prettily’. 

“So,” San started. He kept his eyes on Wooyoung’s hand still in his. “Are you gonna tell me what happened t’you this time?”

Wooyoung was looking at him. He could feel it, but he couldn’t meet his eyes. Because the answer would be there without any words necessary. San didn’t even know why he asked. He knew the answer as soon as the words left his own mouth.

“No,” Wooyoung said.

San closed his eyes and breathed. “Okay. That’s okay. I won’t press further. On this matter, at least. You have my word on that.” He finally looked at Wooyoung. His face was sad. But he gave his answer, and San had to respect that.

San scrutinized the ground as his thoughts spiraled, but before he got too deep, he felt pressure on his cheek. He heard a wet _smack!_ next to his ear. Hands came up to his cheek as quick as the blood did.

“W-What was that?” San stammered.

Wooyoung looked very proud and very smug next to him. “An apology and a thank you. For worrying about me.”

San stared at Wooyoung wide-eyed. He couldn’t tell if he wanted to hit Wooyoung or kiss him back.

“You certainly know how to keep me on my toes,” San stated.

Wooyoung smirked. “Just doing what I do best, Fruitcake.”

San was in a better mood, but he suddenly felt drained. _This whole ‘worrying about other people because you care deeply for them’ is a lot more tiring than I thought._

“Let’s skip today,” Wooyoung said.

“ _What?_ Skip? Did your brain get knocked loose? You know you were totally absent for the past two days, right? No way.”

Wooyoung pulled on San’s blazer. “Why noooot?”

“Because, if it’s not failing grades that won’t let you graduate, then it's your poor attendance. C’mon, lunch break is nearly half over and you still look like death. You need to eat something.”

“And you? What about your lunch?”

“You’re the priority right now.”

“Awe, San,” Wooyoung dragged out his name. “Do you like me that much?” He hooked an arm around San’s neck. It was probably meant to be affectionate, but it didn’t work out that way. San elbowed Wooyoung in the gut and then told him to walk it off after he groaned in pain. As much as San was glad to be “back to normal” with Wooyoung, his worries only went away temporarily.

~

Things were normal. School was normal. The days passed slowly. Wooyoung’s cuts and bruises healed up nicely. San kept on tutoring Wooyoung, and he was doing well. They studied regularly at school, out of school, at each other’s houses, wherever. San finally met Wooyoung’s mother one evening after getting into a hushed shouting match over a study guide. She is a lovely woman, though it was a little scary when she reprimanded Wooyoung for arguing with his tutor. Wooyoung’s father was home less frequently, since he was so busy at work. San met him once—a firm handshake and a few words of appreciation were all San received. Wooyoung met San’s parents once. As the pair were coming into San’s house from school, San’s parents were also returning home. But they both had to leave rather quickly as there were important meetings to attend. They dropped off dinner for the two boys and off they went. Things were normal… until they became less normal. So, San decided to investigate.

“Hey, Mingi, help me put up some posters,” San tugged Mingi away from his homeroom door right before he was about to enter the classroom. He pulled him down the hallway and around the corner, out a set of doors, and to an empty breezeway.

“Uh, where can we put up posters out here?” Mingi asked while looking around.

“We’re not here to put up posters, Mingi, I’ve gotta talk to you.” San rapped his knuckles on his friend’s forehead.

“But why here?”

San sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. _Why, indeed, am I being so dramatic?_ “Is Wooyoung okay? Does he seem to be acting weird to you?”

“Huh?”

“Wooyoung has been… unusual recently. I know that I haven’t known him for as long as you, or even Yeosang, but… ugh, he’s just being weird.”

“You’re using that word a lot, San. How do you know it’s not you being weird?”

“What?!” _It’s not really just me imagining things, right? Wooyoung has definitely been acting abnormally for days now!_ “You’re not helping! I’m just trying to figure this out!”

“Okay, okay, then… _how_ has he been acting weird?”

“Well, he’s a little jumpy, like he has too much energy with no output. He’s not hyper-and-happy-excited, it’s more like jittery and anxious. There’s also…” _Everytime I try to reciprocate any kind of affection, he freezes up and gets all twitchy._

“Also…?” Mingi raised his brows.

San shook his head. “I just don’t want him to be in any trouble again.”

“Oh, San. Is that what you’re worried about? Wooyoung’s always in some kind of trouble,” Mingi pat his arm. “It’d be more concerning if he wasn’t. Being a goody-two-shoes doesn’t suit him.”

Before San could say anything more, the school bell sounded, letting them know that classes were about to begin. Mingi bid San farewell, leaving him even more frustrated and confused than before they spoke.

 _That was a complete and utter waste of time._ San pressed his forehead to the cold brick wall. He eventually returned to his homeroom and decided which of Wooyoung’s friends he would interrogate next.

~

San was not any closer to answers by the end of school. The following day, San tried with Yeosang and encountered a similar problem. Yeosang was a bit more helpful, but did not provide any insight besides: “Why don’t you just ask him yourself? You know he’s very upfront with us; if something is wrong, he’ll tell you.” No matter how obviously wise this was, San couldn’t just ask Wooyoung. Because what if Mingi’s right and San is just projecting? What would Wooyoung think of San then? Stupidly concerned? Obsessively observant? Leading him on to admit something that isn't anyone else’s business? No way could San just _ask_ Wooyoung.

“You look so deep in thought that I’m afraid you’ll drown.” An arm latched around San’s shoulders and a voice was in his left ear. 

“Wooyoung.” _Shit! Do I ask? What do I do?? Act normal? What is normal with him anymore?_

“I’ll walk you home today. You don’t live that far, right?”

A San-sized window of opportunity flew open. San really didn’t like clambering through windows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guys please talk to me im so bored im on break for thanxxgiving (ha) but i cant go home so im just here on campus with my housemates. we're friends so its fine but my closer friends all went home for the week so im gonna have to make up things to do that arent exercise, eat, sleep, and watch anime. im gonna be bored out of my mind and then the week is gonna fly by and i'll have done nothing but sin and be sad  
> anywaysss hope you're all enjoying reading as much as i enjoy writing! happy holidays!


	21. San

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow sorry everyone, ive been trying to make it thru finals the past two weeks, and im finally free! this was my last fall semester of college and im literally so brain dead but somehow i managed to get thru all my classes with acceptable grades.  
> now i can dedicate myself to this fic for a while during the semester break, just gotta get back into the groove of the umbrella boys!

San did not live far from his school, but he lived far enough for Wooyoung to ask “We there yet?” and “This big one yours?” anytime they passed an objectively large house.

“Wooyoung, you’ve been to my house. Several times! Stop asking,” San shoved his friend sideways.

“I’ve been to your house, yes, but I don’t actually know where it is. I fell into your backyard in the middle of the night the first time, remember? I was there, but that doesn’t mean I knew where I was.” Wooyoung returned to San’s side like a magnet.

San rolled his eyes. “How does that apply to all the times in the past few weeks you’ve come over?” Silence. “That’s what I thought. Anyways, we’re almost there, since you won’t stop asking.”

“Hoorah,” Wooyoung deadpanned.

They came upon San’s house, plinked through the gate, and entered the imposing abode. San greeted the empty house; he knew no one was home because of the lack of cars. But he did it out of habit, and out of hope for someone to one day respond.

Before San could even offer Wooyoung to stay for a while, the nuisance had kicked off his shoes and floated into the kitchen to raid the fridge.

“Options are limited, as always, I see,” Wooyoung sighed. “I should make you dinner, or something. I feel like you never eat. I’m very handy with a frying pan,” he held onto the door handles of the fridge and leaned backwards as his eyes found San.

San shrugged. “Unfortunately, not everyone’s a master chef like your mother. But, if you’re sure you won’t set my kitchen on fire…”

“Please, San,” Wooyoung mock-begged. “It’s my dream to have your seal of approval on something to show that I’m competent at life.”

San didn’t know if he should laugh because he didn’t know if Wooyoung was actually insulting him or… something else. “Du— _ what? _ What? What is up with you today? Are you okay? Are you going crazy? Am I going crazy?”

Wooyoung waved him off. “I’m just messing with you, San. Not about my cooking skills, though, I actually do want to cook something tonight. If that’s alright with you.”

“Uh-uhhm… Y-yeah. That’s fine with me.”

“Excellent. I’m gonna go steal one of your shirts, and then you’re gonna listen to me read one of my scripts for my oral exam.” Wooyoung was gone without another word. San heard feet on the stairs and his bedroom door fly open.

_ What the fuck, _ San stood alone in the kitchen.  _ Was that? _ Wooyoung was totally off the rails. One moment he was bullying San, the next he was angelic and tender.  _ And he totally ignored the ‘are you okay’ question, which means he’s totally not okay. And cooking me dinner? What the hell is that all about? I didn’t know he could cook! So much for being upfront. _ San rubbed his hands up and down his face several times and ruffled his hair. 

San had just enough time to pull himself together before Wooyoung returned. As promised, he got right to work on his studying. Wooyoung was suspiciously efficient, constantly checking in with San that his pronunciation was correct and that his words made sense. After about 40 minutes, they did all the work they had to do, and then some. San successfully convinced Wooyoung to practice a few old vocabulary lists, as well. Very suspicious. It was well into the evening when Wooyoung started to upend the kitchen for his promised dinner. San had never seen it so messy before. He kinda liked it, how the kitchen not only looked but  _ felt _ used. Wooyoung left a few cabinets open here and there and left all the ingredients out as he worked through the recipe, which was a  _ bulgogi _ bowl with  _ ssigeumchi namul. _ Easy, right?

The kitchen was a tornado of spoons, singular chopsticks, main ingredients, and spices by the time the food was finally prepared. The food was plated and the pair seated soon after.

San took a bite of the meat and his eyes got huge. “Holy shit, that’s impressive. No clue how you got this out of the disaster in my kitchen, but it’s delicious, Wooyoung.”

Wooyoung beamed. “Mom always makes it cause it’s Kyungmin’s favourite. He’s finally acquired some spice tolerance, so we have it at least twice a week.”

“Looks like I’m gonna have to keep you around, Chef-nim.”

“Shut up,” Wooyoung tried in vain to keep his mouth a flat line. He snatched a piece of meat from San’s bowl and finally let his smile show. San jabbed Wooyoung’s side as revenge, and the two scuffled for a minute at the table before coming to a truce for the sake of not eating cold beef.

They finished eating and agreed to clean up the kitchen together, but after the table was cleared, Wooyoung hoisted himself onto the counter-top and watched San clean the rest. He was finally wiping his hands dry and sighing not ten minutes later.

“You gonna stay, or do you have to get back home?” San looked up at Wooyoung still seated on the counter.

“Only if you want me to,” Wooyoung shrugged.

“Then you know the answer to that question.”

“Fine, twist my arm, I’ll stay,” Wooyoung dramatically pressed the back of his hand to his forehead in response. 

“Ugh, don’t make it weird! And get off the counter!” San slapped the side of Wooyoung’s leg, hoping to shoo him out of the kitchen. His hand was caught before he could pull away, and suddenly the two were face-to-face. 

“What’s so weird about it, huh?” Wooyoung murmured. “I’ll go if you want. But you don’t, right? Can I hear you say it?”

San’s brain went blank.  _ Oh my god, where did this come from? Why is it always like this? How do I put him back to his default settings? _ “S-say what?”

“You want me… to stay…” Wooyoung’s eyes flickered downwards.

“Uh, stay… Happy?”

Wooyoung pouted and slouched forward. “You’re no fun.” He released San’s hand. Let’s go play a game, or something.”

They left the kitchen lights on, and stayed on the first floor. Mario Kart was the only game they could agree on, and played for nearly two hours. They were equally matched in wins and losses, and even changed characters multiple times to test if Bowser was a powerhouse, or if San was just really good at drifting around corners.

The sun was long gone before they got bored. San didn’t know the time, but he wouldn’t be surprised if it was in the double-digits. Wooyoung had dropped his controller on the floor and was so relaxed into the sofa that he was nearly supine, his half-lidded eyes fixed on his cellphone. San stared at Wooyoung. He fell into thought, trying to figure him out yet again. 

~

“Shit I gotta get home.”

“Huh?” San perked up from the floor.

Wooyoung stood from his spot on the couch. His hair was mussed and his clothes were wrinkled. San followed Wooyoung to the entryway. He stood off to the side and watched as Wooyoung struggled to jam his feet into his shoes. Finally, he was ready to go. He pulled a hoodie from his backpack before yanking open the front door. Cold air blew into the house. San sucked in a breath as the hair on his arms raised.

Wooyoung hesitated, and then looked back. “Can I kiss you?” He asked, his fist tightening around his backpack strap.

San gave a small nod and stepped forward. Wooyoung was fighting a smile again, and that made San’s own smile deepen.

Wooyoung had to get on his tip-toes to press their lips together, and then he bounced back down and adjusted his bag. “And no, I don’t have a curfew, but I did leave my car at school, so I should probably go get it. Anyways, tonight was fun.” He kicked the ground twice, a fidgety habit San had picked up on. The door closed in the silence, and San’s head went blank. 

He trailed through the house, cleaning up as he moved along. The kitchen was back to its usual level of cleanliness (and apparent state of disuse) in no time, and the lounge was organized quicker than it was torn apart. San moved aimlessly to his bedroom. He threw open the door and held the handle. A sigh inflated his chest, and then deteriorated his posture. He didn’t like the quiet that crept over the house; he didn’t like the loneliness. He wanted nothing more than to fall face-first on his bed, but something caught his eye. Across the room, draped over the back of his desk chair, was a blazer. San hadn’t been up to his room until now since arriving home, so that meant it was not his. The only person who’d been upstairs all day was Wooyoung. Looking at the jacket, San could see the owner’s name where the left breast pocket should be: Jung Woo Young.

“I should return this,” San thought aloud. “Would be a shame if he didn’t have it at school tomorrow and then had to come find me after letting him know I brought it for him…”

_ Or you could catch him at the school right now and see him once more tonight, _ the abject voice in his head suggested. The jacket was cold in his hands. One second he was fiddling with the threads poking out of the seams of the arms and around the neck. The next he was out of his room, down the stairs, and out the door. He jogged with haste, and was panting by the time he made it to the school. The parking lot was behind the school, so San jogged around the brick buildings, keeping his eyes peeled and his ears open. 

The absence of cars in the lot helped narrow it down; San knew what Wooyoung’s car looked like to some degree, but Wooyoung was nowhere to be found. And then he heard voices up ahead. He walked quickly towards them, hoping to find his friend. Under a street-lamp, San saw three people. One of them was noticeably smaller than the other two. It seemed like the trio were simply talking, but then one of them moved quickly towards the other. And then San clearly heard Wooyoung’s voice yell, “What kinda cheap shot was that?!” 

“Wooyoung!” San called out. He was running before he noticed his legs moving that fast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no thoughts, head empty, just the desolate feeling of when your favourite person leaves after you've been hanging out for hours and hours


	22. Wooyoung

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me, holding my girlfriend by the hood like a stray cat: finally got me one a these mfs

Wooyoung was in a mood when he left San’s house. It was one of those moods that had potential to go rotten. It would spoil sooner than expected.

The parking lot was just beyond the school; Wooyoung remembered exactly where he parked because it was nearly the same spot every day. He pulled his keys from his backpack and clicked on the headlights just to be sure it was where he left it. Not that it could have drove away by itself, but it could have been towed. Or stolen. Anything is possible.

Before Wooyoung could get to the driver’s door, he heard whistling behind him. He froze. Frustration rose in his chest.  _ I can’t get a damn break, can I? _

He shouldered his backpack and slowly turned around. “What do you two want?” Wooyoung folded his arms.

Two men stood in front of him, and were both at least a head taller than him. They were bald and exceptionally lumpy, and if it weren’t for their suits and tattoos lacing up their necks and beyond their knuckles, Wooyoung would simply assume they worked a renowned  _ pajeon _ shop in the city. They were that ordinary.

“We’re your reminder, and we’re here to deliver a message,” said the man on the right. He had an  _ athamé _ tattoo on the side of his head. He probably had a few other knives on his person, too.

“It’s not like I could just forget it, believe me, I’ve tried. Anyways, I can’t make time go by faster. Weeks can only pass seven days at a time, yanno.” Wooyoung rolled his eyes. He forgot how dumb these guys were.

“You should know that the boss is coming back at the end of next month,” the other man said. His hands were adorned in English letters.

Wooyoung paused. “Boss as in  _ boss _ boss? As in ‘big guy’ boss? As in Seonghwa gets knocked off his high horse again?”

“He guessed you’d say something like that,” Letter-Man said.

“So he also said to give you this,” Knife-Head cracked the knuckles on both hands before gripping Wooyoung’s shoulder and retracting his left arm.

He heard someone call his name, but suddenly there was a cold, explosive pain on his right cheekbone that consumed all of his focus. Wooyoung jerked to the left, falling onto the hood of his car.

“Fucker!” Wooyoung’s voice came out as a pained growl, and then louder: “What kinda cheap shot was that?!”

“Mister Park said you earned an upgrade. That’ll be all for tonight. You will see us again.” Knife-Head nodded to Letter-Man and they trudged into the darkness.

_ What exactly does a cracked cheekbone feel like? _ Wooyoung thought to himself as he slowly stood upright. And then he heard his name again. And audible footsteps. Fast footsteps.

“Wooyoung, oh my god! Wh—are you okay? What am I even saying of course you’re not okay ohmygodyou’rebleeding! Who the fuck were those guys?! They were huge!”

“San? Why’re you here?” It hurt to talk, but Wooyoung was stunned. “Were you following me?”

“No! Well, yes, but not because I was stalking you, or anything! You, uh, left your uniform at my house and I hoped to catch you. Before you went home. So you’d have it tomorrow for school and not get dress-coded again…” San sounded breathless and he was gripping Wooyoung’s blazer in his right hand and his bottom lip was trembling. “Uhm… here.” San held out the jacket.

“Thanks.”

“A-are you okay?”

“I am now,” Wooyoung took his jacket back and squeezed the hand that had been gripping it so tightly.

“You must have been hit pretty hard if you’re bleeding like that,” San choked out. He fidgeted in place, obviously wanting to touch but not knowing what or where. It was kind of endearing.

“Brass knuckles. Gets the job done, that’s for sure,” Wooyoung felt blood trickle down his cheek. His cautious attempt at wiping it with the back of his hand was in vain because the slightest touch made him wince in pain. 

“You should probably clean that. And put ice on it. It won’t heal nicely,” San inched closer, but still did not touch.

Wooyoung made a decision that he tried to not regret in advance. “Probably. Let’s go,” he guided San to the passenger seat and got him into the car without another word. He slid into the driver’s seat and waited. The automatic lights faded off. Wooyoung gripped the steering wheel.

“Are  _ you _ okay?” Wooyoung asked.

“I don’t like that you keep getting punched. I don’t like not knowing why people are attacking you—”

“I’m not being attacked, San.”

“Wooyoung.” San’s voice made those two syllables echo in the unmoving car. They finally looked at each other. Even in the darkness, Wooyoung could see worry mess up San’s features. His brows were drawn together and his lips were pouted and he was very still. “You can’t expect me to be okay with this. Not anymore.”

San was right. He was absolutely right. It was completely unfair for Wooyoung to constantly be getting in trouble, making San worry this much, and then never give him an answer for all his questions. But Wooyoung thinks that knowing would be so much worse. Because the reason why all this is happening is so despicable that San would surely ditch Wooyoung after learning the truth. Having San know about all the trouble Wooyoung causes everyone in his life is exponentially worse. This is what prevents Wooyoung from telling San.

“Will you, uh, help me take care of this?” Wooyoung pointed to his busted cheek.

San sighed. “Yes, of course.”

“Okay, but… we have to go back to mine.”

“Why?”

“CauseIhavecurfew.”

“What did you just say?” San leaned towards Wooyoung.

“I have a curfew on weekdays! Ugh, let’s just go,” Wooyoung threw the car into drive and away they went.

“If you weren’t already in pain I would make you hurt right now,” San relaxed into the passenger seat. 

Wooyoung really tried to keep his smile down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and thats its for this short but sweet (not) update! i kinda dont know where to take the story from here but ill be scheming up something in the meantime.


	23. San

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> good morning ladies, gaydies, and theydies. its that time again! please enjoy this fluffy chapter that i wrote in a fit of madness

San found it difficult to stay mad at Wooyoung. He certainly had a good reason for it, but he could never hold a grudge like that. It didn’t really seem fair since Wooyoung was the one actually suffering. The person in question was sitting next to San in the driver’s seat of the car. His cheek was covered in dried blood, and even in the dim lighting of the car San could see he was tired. They arrived at Wooyoung’s house, and the car went silent. The engine turned off, and neither moved. Wooyoung had cleaned away some of the blood, but the cut was still nasty.

“I should tell you before we go inside that we probably have to sneak in. Seeing as it’s getting close to midnight and all…”

San turned to Wooyoung with an incredulous look on his face. “Sneak in? As in through a window?”

“Window? No, I mean—we can still go through the front door, we just have to be quiet. Kyungmin’s definitely asleep, and I hope my parents are, too.”

The pair entered the house successfully. All of the lights were off, but unfortunately San is naturally clumsy, so he tripped on his shoes in the entryway and knocked over the umbrella stand. Wooyoung quietly screamed a wide variety of curse words at San, who attempted to put things back in order. Just as the pair passed through the kitchen—Wooyoung pushing San from behind—lights came on, and San couldn’t help but shrink into himself.

“Wooyoung? Who is that with you?” A deep voice called out from behind them. San and Wooyoung turned in sync. It was Wooyoung’s father (half-asleep), who San had formally met once and seen probably twice before. Wooyoung had this look in his eyes that said _We can’t blow this!_ He kept his head turned slightly to hide the cut on his face. Anxious and flustered, San quickly greeted the chief of police and bowed at the waist.

Wooyoung pulled him up and did the talking. “Sorry for waking you up. We’re just going upstairs now. We’ll be quiet.”

“Choi San… ah, your tutor, right, of course,” Mr. Jung scratched the side of his head. “It’s a little late for tutoring, Wooyoung. Aren’t you being inconsiderate?”

“Dad, don’t—”

“It’s not a problem at all, sir, we just need to finish up somewhere quiet.” San butted in, reaching behind him for Wooyoung’s arm to hopefully keep him calm. It seemed that Wooyoung’s father had no idea what time it was, just that it was night.

“Quiet, at home, right, well… don’t work too late. You boys have school tomorrow, remember that. And Wooyoung, you’re fetching your brother from school tomorrow as well.” He disappeared from sight, and the two boys slumped.

“He’s onto us,” San murmured.

“No, he’s not. And onto what, exactly? I’ve done worse things than sneak in late on a weekday. C’mon, upstairs.”

Before San could ask what that meant, he was being pushed up the stairs, and into Wooyoung’s bedroom. Only until the door was softly shut did San finally relax. Wooyoung groaned out a sigh and fell backwards onto his bed while San plopped down on the swivel chair.

He swiveled to face his friend. “Does your face still hurt? From when you got punched?”

Wooyoung let out a grunt as his response.

“Where’s your first-aid stuff?”

“Bathroom.”

San nodded and rose from the chair. He quietly slipped into the bathroom, found bandages, gauze, and disinfectant, and returned to Wooyoung without any slip-ups.

“Sit up,” San urged. He brought the chair towards the bed and sat before popping open the cap of the cleanser. “This will probably sting.”

He applied the liquid to a square of gauze and waited for Wooyoung to be upright. San held Wooyoung’s chin as he gently pressed the gauze over his cut cheek.

A sharp inhale from Wooyoung proved that it did, in fact, sting.

“Sorry, sorry,” San apologetically pat his head. He used one more gauze to clean up, and then opened a band-aid with shaky hands.

“You good?” Wooyoung had been observing him.

San sighed. “I want to be able to help you, Wooyoung. If… there’s something that you’re dealing with or going through, you can tell me. I’m your friend and I care about you and I’ll listen. That’s what friends are for.”

“There’s nothing going on in my life that you need to worry about, San—ow!” Wooyoung winced as San applied the bandage to his cheek, apparently pressing it on too hard.

“No, that’s not—no,” San leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. His face was hidden as he spoke. “It’s not that I think you _need_ help, but I want to be someone you can rely on and trust. I do things for you simply because I want to, and I want you to understand that I’m not ‘troubling myself’ or going out of my way to spend time with you. I like you too much to see you that way.” He was silent then, thinking of what to say or not say. It was times like this when San felt the most nervous because he still could not predict Wooyoung’s reactions. San sighed again. “I want to know you, Wooyoung. Tell me something you’ve never told anyone.”

San finally peeped at Wooyoung to see a shocked face: wide eyes and an open mouth. San thought he blew it. _This is the end. I’ve gone too far. I’ve said too much, and I got too nosy. He set boundaries, frustrating and confusing as they may be, and I blew past them. He’s gonna kick me out and that’ll be it and he won’t even look at me at school and he’ll tell all his friends to shun me and—_

“Something I’ve never told anyone…” Wooyoung echoed after San’s thoughts spiraled way too deep.

Wooyoung righted his posture and shed his shirt, much to San’s bewilderment. He balled it up and tossed it off the bed. “Shut up, the shirt was coming off eventually.” He poked a scar on his arm. “You wanna know what this is, don’t you? I know you’ve been looking at it.” His tone was accusatory. He was daring San to ask.

San sunk back into the swivel chair as a mixture of guilt and self-consciousness flared up in his chest. “I have a guess.”

“You’re a smart guy, so you’re probably right. It’s a bullet wound.”

San’s eyes got huge and his jaw fell into his lap.

“Cool, right?” Wooyoung leaned back on his hands. There was a proud smile on his lips.

“Cool? _Cool?_ Wooyoung, why the fuck were you _shot?_ Who _shot_ you? When? Why?” The eruption of questions made San struggle with his words.

“Calm down, Fruitcake, it happened a long time ago.”

“But you were—”

“I _know_ I was shot, San. I was in a sling for months afterwards.”

“But—”

“San. If you really want to know, I need you to be a lot more calm than this.”

San shifted, trying to get more comfortable and ready to listen. “Explain. Please.”

“It’s simple. My older brother and I were playing in the house when we were little. My dad’s a cop, as you know, and he kept a gun in the house at the time. Doesn’t anymore. My brother found it, showed me, and we were playing with it. He accidentally shot me in the arm. Next thing I remember, I’m in the hospital. Now I have this.”

 _Leave it to Jung Wooyoung to spare the details,_ San thought. “Your dad’s the chief now, though?”

Wooyoung nodded. “I’ve already told you this. Yes, he’s the _police chief_ now. My older brother’s also a cop.”

“The one who shot you?”

Wooyoung nodded again.

“Do you want to be a cop, too?”

“No way. I’m in the station enough as it is.”

“Wait, what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, uh… Nothing, it’s nothing. I visit my dad a lot, that’s all.”

San squinted at Wooyoung. He didn’t think Wooyoung was lying, per se, but he didn’t buy it either. He couldn’t figure out what Wooyoung was hiding (still), but it wasn’t the whole truth. Something big was missing from all of this. San suspected it was the red thread that connected all the dots.

“You don’t believe me,” Wooyoung crossed his arms.

“I didn’t say that!” San grabbed Wooyoung’s arm.

“You didn’t have to.”

“Wooyoung, I know you’ve never lied to me. I _do_ believe you. You’ve literally never given me a reason to not believe you.” _Except that day at the park with Seonghwa and Yeosang._

“Maybe so,” Wooyoung shrugged. “But the past is the past, so it doesn’t matter anymore. Forget and forget.”

“You mean _forgive_ and forget.”

“I never forgive.”

“Liar. You’re just trying to sound _villainous_ ,” San wiggled his eyebrows.

“I’m playin’ the role they gave me.”

“Whatever. You’re being weird again. I need to pee.” San pushed Wooyoung (rather roughly) back and made a quick escape out of the bedroom and down the hallway. He locked the bathroom door behind him to ensure Wooyoung wouldn’t get immediate revenge. He was under Wooyoung’s roof, so he would certainly be merciless.

 _That was weird,_ San thought as he relieved himself. He didn’t notice it at first, but Wooyoung’s attitude had changed slightly over the course of their conversation. He tried to dismiss it, but it was bugging him more than he thought it would. A lot of things were bugging him, but this was the most prominent. He didn’t want to pry, but that didn’t change how curious he was about Wooyoung’s atypical relationship with his family. 

San returned to find Wooyoung still shirtless, laying spread eagle on the bed.

“What on Earth are you doing?” San asked.

“Meditating,” Wooyoung replied.

“You are… so strange today,” San shook his head. He walked to the desk and started to organize the already tidy space.

“Good strange or bad strange?”

San picked up a pen and clicked it twice before answering. “Certainly not ‘bad strange’... just strange.”

“Am I annoying you?”

San paused because of the sudden question. “No, of course not. Why would you think that?” He looked back at his friend.

“Just getting the feeling,” Wooyoung stared at the ceiling.

“Well, try to not do that.” San replaced the pen on the desk.

“Telling an anxious person to not be anxious is like telling a stabbing victim to stop bleeding. C’mere.” Wooyoung beckoned San closer. 

San sat on the edge of the bed. “You’re not gonna put your shirt back on?”

“Do you want me to?”

“It would admittedly look weird if someone came into the room right now…”

“No one’s gonna come in.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I know my family. Also, it’s well into the night and no one ever bothers to ‘check on me’. Ever.”

San pursed his lips as words failed him.

Wooyoung put his shirt back on. “Don’t go all quiet on me now, San,” he sat up and poked his arm. “What are you thinking about?”

San faced Wooyoung and sat cross-legged. “Why does trouble always find you? You can’t be _that_ unlucky.”

“Trouble?”

“Yes, Wooyoung. Trouble. You were shot in the arm as a kid. You got beat up weeks ago and had to miss school ‘cause it was so bad. And I’ve just had to patch you up cause you got jumped in the school lot!”

“ _Almost_ got jumped.”

“Wooyoung!” San pushed at his shoulder in frustration. “Do you have a deathwish?”

“I don’t. And I wouldn’t say I’m all that unlucky. I met you after all.”

San’s brow came down as he floundered for words. “W-wha-what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Meeting you was the best change of pace in my life.”

“Where’d you learn to say such things?”

“Shut up, I’m on a roll here. San, you brought something to me I didn’t know I could have. I don’t consider myself unlucky, but I don’t make things easy for myself either. But you… you’ve made things better.”

Wooyoung’s half-elegant words caught San off-guard. _Now he’s back to being all touchy-feely. If he jumps on me again then we’ll come full circle._

Wooyoung took San’s silence as a greenlight to continue. “I don’t have a word for it yet, but… it feels good. And that’s enough for me.”

San knew that he shouldn’t say ‘me too’ even though he’s starting to feel the same way. He couldn’t articulate himself, so he acted on the feeling instead. With one hand, he reached out and cupped Wooyoung’s jaw. Their eyes met, and three seconds felt like an eternity. San exhaled a small breath of courage before bringing their lips together. It was just a peck because San didn’t know how to do anything more. There was little Wooyoung had done before that he could mimic, so after breaking the kiss, San grabbed his friend’s hands.

“It’s good for me, too,” San smiled.

Wooyoung’s teeth flashed as he smiled back. He leaned forward and gently rested his forehead to San’s shoulder. “Stay the night,” he insisted.

 _Don’t make an excuse, just do what he wants!_ San’s brain yelled at him. “I don’t have anything with me though…” is what came out of his mouth.

Wooyoung squeezed his hands and kept his head down. “Take anything of mine. Stay.”

 _No excuses! You’re fucking it up!_ San’s brain continued. “I don’t want to be a burden. It’s the middle of the week and—”

“Leaving would be more burdensome. You’re already here. Please, San.”

“Okay. If it’s what you want, then I’ll stay.”

“Forreal?” Wooyoung finally showed his face.

San nodded.

And then Wooyoung took him down.

San hit the pillows with an ‘oof’ before roughly 140 lbs were directly on top of him. “Can’t I change first?” He pat Wooyoung’s back.

Wooyoung mumbled something into San’s chest, but it was completely inaudible. 

“You can’t possibly find this comfortable. C’mon, get up,” San tapped his arms.

The only response was a grumbly moan. Like a kid who didn’t want to get out of bed and go to school.

“Wooyoung. Last chance.” San gripped his shoulders and bent one knee. He counted to three and pushed, rolling the both of them over. Wooyoung looked up in awe at San, who had him pressed down to the mattress.

“Are we about to kiss right now?”

“If—you—If that’s what you want,” San stuttered. 

“Forget about what I want, do whatever you were about to do.”

“I wasn’t gonna just assume I could ki—”

“Choi San, shut up and kiss me right now.”

San dipped his head and kissed Wooyoung for the second time that night. It was a longer-but-still-short kiss. He pulled back and searched Wooyoung’s face in the dim lighting.

“Once more won’t kill me.”

San nodded and came down again. He tried to relax, but he truthfully had no idea what he was doing, so he kept it short. “Satisfied?”

“Momentarily. You can go change, now.”

San rifled through Wooyoung’s drawers for a shirt that wasn’t tattered and any pair of sweatpants. He found a black shirt with a compass on it, and grey sweats that were a little short in the legs, not that it mattered. He placed his own neatly folded clothes on Wooyoung’s swivel chair, turned off the lights as requested, and returned to the bed. Wooyoung was on the side closer to the wall, scrolling through his phone with a furrowed brow.

“You gonna wake up at the ass-crack of dawn again?” Wooyoung asked without taking his eyes off his phone.

“Ah, probably. My body just wakes up early on it’s own.”

Wooyoung tossed his phone off the bed. It hit the floor with a carpeted thud. “That’s tragic.”

“Not really. Since I’ll have to go home and change into my uniform before school anyways. Would you mind leaving a few minutes earlier and dropping by my house tomorrow morning?”

“You’re gonna make me go to school tomorrow? After everything I’ve been through?” Wooyoung rolled around in agony.

“Oh, no, you are not gonna play that card,” San grabbed Wooyoung’s wrist. “Mr. Don’t Worry About It. You’re not gonna skip just ‘cause of what happened earlier. You wouldn’t even let me take you to the hospital, so it’s clearly not that bad. Absolutely not.”

“But I don’t wannaaa…”

“Wooyoung, graduation is really not far away. You can’t skip school anymore.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” he pressed his face into his pillow.

“Okay, okay I’m sorry. Let’s just go to bed,” San said before realizing he’d never done this properly before. Because the last time they slept together, San was not totally conscious, and had basically no memory of falling asleep. So he just laid on his back in the dark room and stared at the ceiling, hoping for sleep to find him.

“You’re strange today, too, San,” Wooyoung’s voice was in his right ear.

“Strange how?” San looked over at his friend.

“You bounce from assertive to playful to timid within minutes. You got on top, but then you hesitated. You won’t look me in the eye sometimes, but then other times you hold me so steady that I can’t look anywhere else. I didn’t get you at first, but I’m slowly figuring you out. Also, personal space? I like when you disregard it. Like right now: you’re way too far away.” Wooyoung wiggled close. “I’m gonna hug you now. Tell me if it’s uncomfortable.” Arms came around San’s torso. A leg slotted in between his. Wooyoung’s weight on top of him was comfortable. San placed his hand on Wooyoung’s arm as some sort of reciprocation. 

“It’s nice,” San whispered.

“Good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next update will be a bit after new years! thank you to everyone who has been leaving kudos, comments, hits, etc. and to those who have been coming back to this work for every new update! this support, while mostly anonymous, is encouraging! remember to stay safe, stay healthy, and make the most out of these solemn days


	24. San

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [me rising from the covid grave] i lived bitch  
> hi to anyone who comes back to this fic. so sorry ive been absent. a lot of shit hit the fan after new years. my girlfriend kept getting quarantined, school started back up, i got mf covid, had to think about my future for a hot sec, but everything is great now and im back to vibing. enjoy!

The weather lightened up as graduation approached. Wooyoung hadn’t had a run-in with any trouble in several days, which was pretty good considering the severity of his previous affairs. Thankfully, he was mostly in the clear with his grades. His parents were very pleased with the hard work that was encouraged by his tutor-turned-friend Choi San. Wooyoung even got a compliment from his English teacher because of the sharp increase in the quality of his work. San and Wooyoung’s “study sessions” became anything but that. They would maybe get in about thirty minutes of productivity before calling it a day.

It was a particularly sunny afternoon at San’s house when Wooyoung—who was spread out working on San’s bed— clicked his pen and shoved his books to the floor.

“Okay, I’ve used all the brainpower I can muster,” Wooyoung sat up. “What do we do now?”

San was sat at his desk. He wiggled in the swivel chair and looked at Wooyoung. “Now? We can… do whatever you want,” he shrugged.

Wooyoung thought with pouted lips for a moment, and then rose from his spot on the bed and stood right in front of San. He bent over until he was at eye-level, propping himself up with his hands firm on San’s thighs.

“Have you ever kissed anyone before?” Wooyoung asked after a harrowing moment of silence.

San has observed that Wooyoung does this thing where he stares people down before saying the most out-of-pocket things imaginable. And it’s not because he doesn’t have a filter. San thinks that Wooyoung likes to make people acutely uncomfortable with his bluntness. He excuses it as curiosity, but San’s actually got some parts of Wooyoung figured out, believe it or not. He knows it's something more than that. That doesn’t mean he’s immune to these brutal conversations, though. Not at all.

“W—of course I have! _We_ have kissed! Several times! What kinda question is that?!” San’s face was burning. He wanted to melt into his swivel chair and disappear.

“I don’t mean a peck on the lips. I mean real kissing. Y’ever made out with anyone before?” Wooyoung continued.

“Kissing, making out, what’s the difference?” San retaliated.

“The difference is the presence of tongue.”

San’s breath caught in his throat. “I-I know that.” He folded his arms and turned his head to the side. He already felt less nervous now that he wasn’t meeting Wooyoung’s gaze.

“You know everything,” Wooyoung said, then continued in a murmur right at San’s ear: “But can you put it to practice?”

When San turned his head back to center, Wooyoung was a breath away. There was a moment, then, where San’s eyes danced all over Wooyoung’s face. He took in every detail. The asymmetrical slant of his eyes, the single freckle in the middle of his left cheekbone, his perfect nose, ridiculously full lips, a unique freckle on his bottom lip, honey skin that made San’s fingers twitch because he wanted to touch _so bad_ —

“Do you need a friendly refresher?” Wooyoung’s eyes were on San’s lips.

San could only nod before Wooyoung _finally_ kissed him.

 _Fuck,_ San couldn’t believe how great he felt in that moment.

Wooyoung was kissing _him._ He was kissing _Wooyoung._

To answer the question, no, San had never “made out” with anyone. He’d thought about it plenty of times, but never got around to it. Too busy. He’d always had a worry in the back of his head that he’d be terrible at it when the time inevitably came. But with Wooyoung, it was easy to get a hang of the rhythm. He didn’t move at first, but after relaxing into it, San’s head was tilted comfortably to the side. Eventually, Wooyoung sat atop San’s thighs. Without a thought, San’s hands moved to his hips; his weight shifted and he pressed closer.

“Open your mouth,” Wooyoung muttered as he trapped San’s chin between his thumb and curved forefinger. 

San relaxed his jaw, and in went Wooyoung’s tongue. It felt weird, of course, but San’s fuzzy brain could only process how good everything felt.

After a while, Wooyoung broke the kiss, and San glimpsed his expression; his swollen lips and lazy eyes sent chills down his arms. Then there was pressure on his neck, and he acknowledged that Wooyoung’s tongue and teeth were a deadly combination.

“You know,” Wooyoung spoke into his neck. “This would be a lot more comfortable on the bed.”

“Why, so we can have friendly sex?”

Wooyoung pulled away and shrugged. “Only if you want to.”

San froze like a computer gone haywire.

Wooyoung laughed at his reaction. “Nevermind, we can just stick to lesson one, then. You’re _my_ student now. C’mon, this chair is too loud. Up. Bed.” Wooyoung got up and held out his hand. San took it and was hauled to his feet. He stumbled, but Wooyoung swiftly placed San on his lap so that their previous positions were switched. Wooyoung sported a blissed-out smile as he pushed San’s blazer off his shoulders.

“I don’t know what the _volume_ of the chair has to do with anything, but I—” San managed before getting cut off.

“Hush, I’m the tutor now. You don’t get to nag me anymore.” Wooyoung pressed his index finger to San’s lips, and then pecked them before smiling big. San liked to think Wooyoung reserved that smile for him only. How greedy of him.

“What else is there for me to ‘learn’?” San raised his brow.

“A lot. But of utmost importance right now is hands,” Wooyoung shook his own hands.

“Hands?”

Wooyoung placed his on San’s butt. “Hands.”

“Elaborate.”

Wooyoung kissed him again, this time using his leverage to press San closer. San was so focused on the feeling of Wooyoung’s long hair in between his fingers that he didn’t notice Wooyoung’s fingers slowly, very slowly, creeping up under his untucked uniform shirt. They were cold against San’s hot skin, but it felt amazing when he did notice. Wooyoung’s grip was firm. His kissing was confident.

San wanted to do something exciting with his own hands, so he (regretfully) released Wooyoung’s hair and started to undo the top buttons of his shirt. Unfortunately, Wooyoung’s top buttons were already done, so San had to feel for a second to unfasten the remainders. 

“Okay,” San broke the kiss. He laced his fingers behind Wooyoung’s neck. “I get why hands are important. What now?”

“Now we can do whatever you want.” Wooyoung’s hands rested on San’s waist under his shirt.

San wanted more, but he didn’t know how to ask in a way where he wouldn’t cringe. He would only have to say one word, but he would rather jump headfirst into a rosebush than say _that._

“More?” Wooyoung asked.

 _FUCK! Why does it sound so hot when he says it?!_ San bit his lip and nodded.

“Lay on your back.”

San clambered off Wooyoung’s lap and crawled to the middle of the bed. He flipped over and Wooyoung was right at his feet. 

“Graceful,” Wooyoung snickered. He pushed San’s legs open and kneeled in the empty space.

Wooyoung took up San’s vision, so he closed his eyes before he got too self-conscious. They kissed again and it was good. Really good. He just didn’t know how to move; he didn’t want to just be lying there like a big blah, but he didn’t want to do something stupid that would ruin everything. He liked the pace they were going at, and Wooyoung was doing well at not making San feel incompetent. Wooyoung placed San’s hands where he wanted them, and touched where it felt good. He made noises that were (doing a fantastic job at cranking the horny) encouraging, and said little words to spur on the moment like: “that’s good,” “you like this?” and the oh-so-sultry “you feel so good”. His words stopped as he focused on the new task of unbuttoning San’s shirt while also kissing down his chest. Not easy when the person in question wears his shirts buttoned all the way up.

Wooyoung licked at the now-exposed hollow of San’s throat when San said, “I can’t tell if I want you to keep talking, or if I like you quieter.”

“Is it helping when I talk?” Wooyoung shook his hair out of his face and rested on San’s torso.

San was feeling nervous again, so he spoke to the ceiling. “Well, having a full-blown conversation in the middle of this right now is… interesting, but I—I don’t even know what I’m trying to say.” He covered his face.

“Hey, don’t hide from me,” Wooyoung poked the back of San’s hand. He peeped through his fingers before Wooyoung rested his head on the center of San’s chest. “Are you liking this? Yes or no.”

“Yes,” San’s voice came out from behind his palms.

“Do you want to keep going? Yes or no.”

“Yes.”

“Do you need to take a break? Yes or n—”

“It’s nothing like that, Wooyoung, I’m just _nervous.”_

“Ah.” 

“I don’t know what it is other than my obvious lack of experience, therefore calmness, but I’m so used to having you talk to me all the time that now when we’re doing _this_ I… don’t know what I want to make it feel… normal.” San smacked his hands down on the mattress. 

“Well, if you want me to talk… I can ask you about your day, tell you about mine, comment on the weather, or,” Wooyoung counted on his fingers as a shit-eating grin split his face. “I can tell you you’re a good boy.”

“I should slap you.”

“I’ll let you if you’re into that kinda stuff.” Wooyoung wriggled on top of him.

“I’ve decided I want you to shut up,” San pressed his hand against Wooyoung’s mouth and everything was good in this world until Wooyoung licked San’s palm. “Gross!”

Wooyoung snickered. “Okay, okay, so you want to keep going, yeah? Whaddaya wanna do now? Or maybe I should ask: what d’you want me to do t’you?”

If San could express large exclamation points and question marks, that’s what he’d be doing. Instead he was just pinned to the bed, blushing madly, while his friend was yapping away on top of him like it was nothing.

“I can’t answer that,” San finally answered.

“Can’t, or won’t?”

“It’s embarrassing!”

“I’m nervous too, okay!?” Wooyoung admitted. “I don’t wanna fuck this up either. I want you to be comfortable, so that’s why I keep asking. I’ll do anything you want, including stopping. So please let me make it good for you.”

San could not have predicted that just kissing would bring on so much. He brushed Wooyoung’s hair away from his face. “Okay, okay. I can… fuck, just close your eyes and I’ll tell you what I want.”

Wooyoung immediately obeyed while a faint smile made his lips twitch.

San covered his own eyes for good measure. “I want you to hold me down and kiss me and then I w-want you to give me a hickey where no one can see.” He finally looked at Wooyoung, who was holding his bottom lip in his mouth.

“Challenge accepted.” And then he pounced.

They shifted on the bed. Wooyoung had San totally caged in, wrists held tightly above his head. San could barely keep up and was breathing heavy by the time Wooyoung moved down his body. He relinquished his hold on San’s wrists to open his shirt after licking down his neck, but then clamped his hands down on San’s arms and worked his mouth. The licking and biting and sucking was overwhelming. The noises filling the room were obscene and they hadn’t even done anything yet. San wanted to touch so badly, but Wooyoung held him tight.

Wooyoung stopped abruptly and hovered. He pressed himself up and looked towards San’s bedroom door. “I just heard a door close,” he said.

“What? You’re imagining things.” San was admittedly too turned on to notice anything outside of his own bubble of horniness. 

“I’m telling you someone else is here.” Wooyoung sat back on his feet and looked at the doorway again.

San reached to pull the other back down. “No one’s home but us.”

“San, I’m se—” 

“Sannie! I’m hooome!” A voice called out from inside the house.

San could not believe this terrible luck. “Shit! What’s _she_ doing here!?”

Wooyoung looked at him wide-eyed, already buttoning up his shirt. “Who?”

“My sister!” San hissed.

“Well, respond so she doesn’t come up here,” Wooyoung hissed back. He shook out his hair and ruffled it several times.

“She’s gonna come up here regardless.”

“Sannie! Are you home? I’m coming upstairs!” The voice called sweetly. It was terrifying.

The two boys scrambled, trying to make the room and themselves look presentable and very normal. Wooyoung jumped onto the swivel chair and clawed at the desk to pull himself into place. He threw a book at San. It was all so ridiculous. There was no way they _wouldn’t_ be caught; Wooyoung’s lips were _so_ puffy and San was sure he was totally flushed. And there was one more problem…

“Oh my god, are you serious right now?” Wooyoung asked, giving San the up-down many times.

“I can’t help it! I didn’t ask for this!” San could go for that rosebush right about now.

“Well, make it go away!” Wooyoung opened two more notebooks and dumped San’s pencil case onto the desk.

“I can’t! That’s the problem!” San hit the book against his forehead.

“Then… lay on your stomach. Just do it, San! And do something convincing with this.” Wooyoung threw a pen at San as if that would help bring the boner down. “Quiz me! Pretend you’re quizzing me!”

A young woman appeared in the doorway. She was pretty. She didn’t look like San, but she did. After smiling at Wooyoung and greeting him, she very much resembled her younger brother.

San forced a smile of his own and tried to calm his heart.

“I’m sorry for interrupting, I see that you are working,” She said. “I baked some muffins and brought them over. Really thought Mom and Dad would be home, but… Anyways, take a break and help yourselves! I’ll leave you to it!” She waved and was gone.

San held up a finger to Wooyoung who was definitely about to blow their cover. San was listening for the tell-tale creak of the third step from the bottom. Almost… San let out a big breath.

“She’s gone for now,” San shoved his face into the book held by his trembling hands. The terror of being found out overpowered every other feeling in his body, so San was able to sit up and scoot to the end of the bed without any worry of showing his proud bits.

Wooyoung was staring at him with a glint in his eyes.

“So, what was it, exactly?” Wooyoung quirked an eyebrow.

“What was what?”

“What was it that got you… excited?”

San threw the book at Wooyoung, who laughed maniacally. He scooted back to the center of the bed where he just had Wooyoung’s tongue down his throat, crossed his legs, and propped his head in his hands.

“Aw, San. Don’t be like that, you know I’m just messing with you,” Wooyoung said. “I’m honoured, really, to have that effect on you.”

San couldn’t think of a comeback that would shut up his friend, so he just kept on pouting.

“Your sister seems nice. Should we go downstairs, or is that scowl a ‘I’m not moving until I get over it’ type of thing?” Wooyoung motioned to San’s posture.

“ _This,_ ” San indicated his very neutral face. “Is not a scowl.”

“It is.”

“Is not!”

“Do you want those muffins or not?”

“No!”

A devilish smile split Wooyoung’s face. “Me neither,” he said as he rose from the chair. He walked to the bedroom door and pushed it closed. He took steps towards the bed and stood right in front of San, staring him down again. “I’d rather have you.” San felt like a deer in headlights. Surely his fight-or-flight instincts would kick in, though, right?

Wrong.

He remained frozen as Wooyoung crawled toward him and sat back on his feet. Hands came reaching out and fingers were quickly working on the buttons of his shirt again. It felt different than before, though. San was far more nervous, and it had everything to do with the fact that his sister was in the house and she could pop in unannounced at any moment. And then what would happen? He didn’t want to imagine it.

San grabbed Wooyoung’s hands and squeezed. “I changed my mind. Muffins sound delicious right now.”

Wooyoung puffed out his bottom lip and drew his brows together. “Can’t I kiss you once more?”

San glanced at his bedroom door and breathed. “You may.”

He expected to be devoured, but was surprised, as always with Wooyoung. Their lips pressed together for a few seconds, and then Wooyoung was pulling away. San managed to not say ‘That’s it?’, lest Wooyoung take that as a challenge.

The pair headed downstairs to find San’s sister in the kitchen, and a plate stacked with a pyramid of muffins in her hands. As they each carefully picked their muffin of choice, San fell into thought. Earlier, when Wooyoung asked, ‘what do you want me to do to you?’ San really didn’t know at first. And when Wooyoung said, ‘I’ll let you if you’re into that kinda stuff,’ San admittedly froze up. _What kind of stuff am I into?_ San had never really thought about it before. He’d proven himself competent, but that was about it. He kinda suspected that Wooyoung would be… rowdy. He guessed they’d just have to keep going to figure it out.

San started a mental list of ‘turn-ons’ for when things started going in _that_ direction. Lap-sitting? Big, fat yes. Talking? Surprising, but yes. Neck kissing? Hands under the shirt? Yes to both. He loved feeling Wooyoung’s hair in his hands as they kissed, but he low-key wished he’d given it a few experimental tugs. He liked being held down, but now that he thinks about it, he liked to do the same to Wooyoung, like that one time he spent the night at Wooyoung’s in the middle of the week. It was new and exciting and he was nervous, but it was okay. It’s a lot like when they argue about stupid little things. It’s a constant back and forth with no clear right answer (though San frequently gets in the last word). He never backed down from Wooyoung’s objections, and Wooyoung would always argue for argument’s sake. And then a new thought came to San: maybe another big one was seeing Wooyoung’s reactions. San observed Wooyoung a lot on a regular basis. He liked seeing his reactions to different things because they were unpredictable. Would something make him pout or laugh or get angry or shy? Wooyoung was a wild card in San’s hand. He wanted to see him pressed into the pillows, lips parted, breathing hard, voice broken— _whoa whoa WHOA! Pump the breaks, buckaroo!_ San needed to reign in his thoughts ASAP.

He could only guess at what’s on Wooyoung’s list. The desire to figure out all these things excited San. He wanted to take Wooyoung back upstairs and continue where they left off, but they were both occupied, unfortunately. He’d make it his private research.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes i did wake up and choose horny today. gonna take a homework break and hoping to get another chapter out today. gonna get back onto the two week schedule, too!


	25. Wooyoung

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so i also chose angst today woops. gonna drop this and yeet myself into the mega gay zone

Wooyoung had a bone to pick with Yeosang. He’d tried his usual tactic of cornering him in the canteen, but Yeosang seemed to anticipate this and made excuses about having classroom chores to attend to. For the past three days, Yeosang was able to evade Wooyoung. 

No more.

The final bell rang and Wooyoung was exiting the building in under a minute. He found his elusive friend briskly walking away from the school grounds.

“Kang Yeosang!” Wooyoung called out. His target stopped and slowly turned. Wooyoung caught up to him and readied his interrogation.

“Seonghwa wants to date me,” Yeosang blurted out before Wooyoung finished inhaling.

“What?! What did y—” Wooyoung choked.

“We’re together now,” Yeosang’s fierce brows came together.

“No, that’s not what you said.” Wooyoung must have heard him wrong. “You said he  _ wants _ to date you. Y—”

“We  _ are _ dating, Wooyoung.”

Wooyoung managed to not let his jaw hang open. But the disbelief was still there. He didn’t like the feeling in his chest. It swirled up his guts and made his brain work hard.

_ Betrayal.  _

This wasn’t right.

This was never supposed to happen.

Disloyalty.

Double-crosser.

Unreliable.

Traitor.

Wooyoung bit the inside of his cheek. “Well… is he… nice to you?” He asked. He couldn’t bear to lose his best friend over something like this. Even if it was Park fucking Seonghwa.

Yeosang’s composure crumbled. “Yeah, Wooyoung. He’s really—you’re not mad? You’re not gonna hate me for this?”

“I may not like him, but you’re not him.” Wooyoung brought Yeosang into a hug. A sigh of relief shook Yeosang’s frame. “You’re my best friend. I’m not gonna let a boyfriend get between us.”

A wet laugh came from Yeosang’s hidden face. “I should say the same, then, huh?”

“San’s not my boyfriend.”

“Sure, sure.”

“Can I walk you home?” Wooyoung asked after they broke apart. Yeosang wiped his eyes quickly. And looked down again.

“Well… you see…”

_ Don’t fuckin’ say it, _ Wooyoung’s thoughts spiraled. Before his friend could say any more, a motorcycle engine roared from down the street. And then his favourite person came cruising towards them.

Park Seonghwa rolled up on a very clean, two-person motorcycle. 

“What’re you doing here, bastard?”

“Jung Wooyoung. Can’t say it’s good to see you.” Seonghwa shifted his attention to Yeosang. “Ready to go, babe?”

Wooyoung fake-gagged as Yeosang nodded, and then smacked his shoulder.

“Try to be civil,” his friend requested.

“He started it,” Wooyoung pointed.

“Did not,” Seonghwa retaliated.

“Okay! Time to go!” Yeosang had a quick change of emotions, hopped onto the back of the motorcycle, and waved to Wooyoung.

“Text me when you’re home,” Wooyoung yelled.

“I’m not abducting him,” Seonghwa stated.

“Not fucking talking to you.”

Seonghwa only revved the engine twice and shook his head. He drove away quickly, and then Wooyoung was alone.

Even though he didn’t like Seonghwa, he was relieved that Yeosang was honest with him. And if he was happy, then that’s what really matters. 

Something that Yeosang said stuck out to him, though. Implied, rather. That he and San were dating. Were his feelings that obvious? Wooyoung didn’t think he was that different with San than with any of his other friends. Except for the excessive kissing, whispered feelings, and spending a lot of time together, of course. But dating? Is that really what Wooyoung wants out of their relationship? It’s always been a passing thought, not something Wooyoung wanted to give much attention to for fear of it taking root and messing with his mind. But perhaps, at this point, it deserved some thought. It was undeniable that Wooyoung liked San, but dating? 

_ No, _ Wooyoung thought.  _ This isn’t something to tackle tonight. _

He let the idea flutter away, lest it become something more than he could handle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guys i miss mingi :(((  
> im so excited for the comeback tomorrow bc although we wont see mingi, we'll get to hear him again!  
> also not to be h0rnie on main but san abs  
> good day


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